


Church AU (Fandom to Work AU/AU Number 1)

by clonethemidwife



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 23,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22379413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clonethemidwife/pseuds/clonethemidwife
Summary: Originally written in 2016 for Fandom to Work, but posted on tumblr way late. Patrick is the vicar of a small parish, Shelagh is his church administrator. Sparks fly. After I posted, I had a request for an Epilogue. The Epilogue took on a life of its own, and is substantially longer than the original work. I opted to put it all in as one fic.
Relationships: Bernadette | Shelagh Turner & Patrick Turner, Bernadette | Shelagh Turner & Timothy Turner
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. Part 1

“I need you to put an extra announcement in Sunday’s bulletin.” Patrick said, walking into the modest office while rolling up the sleeves of his clerical shirt. Ever since he’d confessed he actually hated those shirts, with their stiff clerical collars that felt to him like a neon sign on his torso, Shelagh couldn’t help but study him when he wore them. Fine, Shelagh thought, she couldn’t help but study him. Full stop.  
“I’ve just finished folding the bulletins. I’ll put an insert with the announcement in.” Shelagh told him.  
“Good. When you’re done, please come help me in the Church?”  
“With what? And what’s the announcement?”  
“I’m going through all the prayer books and hymnals. They’re all in the wrong places, and some need replacing. And I’m bored to tears. Say you’ll help?”  
“I will. Is that what you wanted to announce?”  
“No. The announcement… Well, this is awkward.” Patrick paused. Shelagh looked on intently, afraid to say anything. Outwardly, she looked calm, but her heart was beating so loudly in her ears she was amazed Patrick couldn’t hear it. Best she didn’t say anything and betray her anxiety over what was coming next, she decided. Patrick raised an eyebrow, “You’re not going to jump down my throat asking if I’m leaving?” There it was. Shelagh gulped.  
“Are you?” She asked timidly.  
“No. But every time I say I have an announcement, I have to talk the old guard out of having an aneurism about the day that I’ll leave. I’ve rather gotten used to the insanity, I’m afraid.”  
“I’m glad you’re not leaving.” Shelagh said, she hoped much more levelly than she felt at that moment. She could have kissed him and danced a jig at that moment. Not that wanting to kiss him had been a desire isolated to that moment, mind you. “What’s the announcement then?” The crease between Shelagh’s eyebrows that Patrick had previously paid too much attention to reappeared.  
“Oh, right. You can’t make an insert if I’ve not told you the announcement, can you? Duh, Patrick…” He trailed off. “Do you want me to make some coffee? With the books, we’ll be here a while…”  
“We’ll be here even…” Shelagh started. She’d intended to say, even longer if you don’t tell me what the announcement is, but even though she knew he wasn’t leaving, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, and so refrained from being too hard on him. “That is, I want you to tell me what I’m supposed to put on the insert. And then I’d like you to make coffee. We’re here all day regardless of what we’re doing.” Patrick stood stunned as Shelagh finished. “Thank you.” Shelagh added meekly.  
“Of course. We’ll be having an Interfaith Service with the other local churches. This is the date,” Patrick produced a scrap of paper from his trouser pocket and handed it to Shelagh, “Write whatever you think will sell it. It would be bad for us as hosting church if no one from the parish came to the service. I trust your judgment. Now, I’ll go make coffee. When you’re done, come rescue me from the hymnals. Please.” He said.  
“Of course. They’re known for their violent tendencies and can only be subdued by soprani.” Shelagh teased, and prepared to create the bulletin insert.  
“Shelagh?”  
“Yes?” She looked back to him.  
“Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  
“I think you’d find a way to manage.”  
“I think I’d find myself bald from pulling my hair out after trying to get your job done with volunteers. Really, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” With that, he went off to make coffee. If he’d turned around, he would have seen Shelagh sitting stunned at her desk, her chest heaving and her eyes darting back and forth as she tried to determine what he’d meant.


	2. Part 2

It didn’t take Shelagh long to create the insert. She’d fancied herself quick on her feet, and she enjoyed opportunities to be creative, even if it was only for a Parish insert. In any case, Fr. Turner had always seemed pleased with her improvements to flyers and inserts. That mattered far more to her than it should have. He was Anglican, so it wasn’t entirely forbidden, as it would have been had they been Catholic, but he was her boss, a direct supervisor, and he didn’t have the luxury of conducting himself however he pleased. She’d known priests who’d been reassigned for indiscretions less than flirting–were they flirting, she wondered?–with the secretary. She was certain he barely noticed her as an entity separate from her work. She was, at least, until this morning.  
When she had finished, she wandered into the kitchen to pour the coffee, and brought two steaming mugs (one black, one sugared–2 packets: one sugar, one stevia) into the church to tackle the issue of the books. Books which Shelagh suspected Patrick had stacked up in front of the altar and not examined at all. It would be like him to pile them all, and then wait for her before he started going through them and organizing them. Organization, he was always the first to admit, was not his strong suit, and, Shelagh thought with a laugh, he’d probably tell her that if he’d gone through the books without her, he’d have ended up accidentally throwing out good books instead of the ones that needed replacing. Shelagh shook her head, steadied herself, and walked fully into the church.  
“Patrick, I’ve brought you coffee. Let’s see to these books.”  
Patrick popped up, peering over what could only be described as a wall of books in front of the altar.  
“Were you sleeping on the job?! Shocking!” Shelagh laughed, walking to the altar to hand him the mug. She sat down, and didn’t see how closely Patrick was watching her every move. She looked to him for direction, and he managed to say, “So how do you think we should proceed?” quickly enough that Shelagh didn’t notice how entranced with her he was. Patrick thought, It’s going to be a long morning…  
“Let’s go through all the prayer books first. The books that need to be replaced can go on the altar, and we’ll worry about ordering new ones and decommissioning these later. We should put the books that are fine back in the pews. And then repeat the process with the hymnals. And we should think about ordering lunch soon.”  
“Is it that time already?”  
“It will be well before we’ve finished with this.” Shelagh gestured to the books. “Any thoughts?”  
“That sounds fine.”  
“I know it does. I meant thoughts on lunch.”  
“Oh.” Patrick thought about it. “No. Whatever you want is fine, dear.”  
“I beg your pardon?” Shelagh dropped a book onto the floor in her surprise. It landed with a thud that echoed throughout the tabernacle.  
Patrick scrambled to recover and accidentally knocked over a stack of books, and his coffee. “Jesus!” One hand flew to his mouth, with the other picking up the tipped mug, and then smacking the floor. “Shit.”  
Shelagh inhaled sharply.  
“What I meant to say is that whatever you want for lunch is fine. I’m so sorry. It was instinct. I wasn’t thinking. I’m so stupid. Can you forgive my momentary slip? I’m making such a mess of things…”  
“Let’s get the Tide pen and a towel for the floor. Did you get coffee on yourself?” Shelagh simultaneously hoped he had spilled coffee on his trousers and that he had avoided the spill. Why did she want him to have gotten coffee on his trousers? They were in church. His church. Where she was an employee. He was right. Shit was the only appropriate exclamation for the moment. “It’ll be fine.” She tried to reassure him with a smile, but the silence that followed was impossibly awkward.


	3. Part 3

Some time after the spill was cleaned, and Patrick had moved closer to Shelagh, “to avoid the spill”, he’d said, they sat in silence examining the prayer books. Shelagh shut the book in her hands loudly and turned to look at him. “This is ridiculous!”  
“If you don’t want to go through books…”  
“Not. That.” Shelagh cut him off. “This may not be, hell, this isn’t appropriate and you could fire me for this, but would you like to go out on Saturday?”  
It was barely three seconds before Patrick answered emphatically, but it felt like an eternity for both Shelagh and Patrick.  
“Yes.” He said. “It will have to be an early evening,” he said motioning to the church, “but I will pick you up at 6.”  
“Good.” Shelagh smiled. “Now, I think I’d fancy some Mexican food for lunch. How do you feel about burritos?”  
“That’s great. Do you want to order or should I?”  
“I’ll go. The usual?” She asked as she walked to the door.  
“Yes, and,”  
“Don’t forget the extra hot sauce. I know. I won’t.” Shelagh smiled. “I never do.”  
“No. You don’t.” Patrick smiled. The sun was coming in through the window over the altar, and Shelagh wanted nothing more than to photograph this moment, frame it, and stare at it forever. Unable to resist the urge, she quickly walked back over to where he sat, dropped to her knees, and placed a kiss onto his forehead. He captured one of her hands while she was distracted, embarrassed and pleased that she had just made the first move. Twice. In less than five minutes. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. He squeezed it gently, smiled, and then released it. Shelagh smiled back, and went to order their lunch.

30 minutes later, Shelagh had flagged down the delivery man, who was in the process of giving up on delivering the burritos after he’d gone to every building connected in some way to the church except the church office. Patrick came back into the office, and smiled at Shelagh, who was now unpacking their lunches onto Patrick’s desk. Shelagh smiled back, slightly uncertain as to what this lunch would entail. Calm down, Shelagh, you’ve had lunch with him almost every day for since you started working here. It’s been years. She thought. And it calmed her, but there was another pang. But it’s never been like this, she finally conceded.  
Patrick produced plates, and stole a tortilla chip from Shelagh’s portion. “Yours taste better.” He said before Shelagh could point out to him that he had his own portion of tortilla chips next to hers.  
“Turnabout is fair play.” Shelagh grinned as she snatched two of his chips.  
“With interest, apparently.” Patrick laughed as he pitched a chip at Shelagh’s shoulder.  
“Oh no. Oh no. You don’t want to do that, Patrick Turner.”  
“And why is that?” Patrick continued to break chips into pieces and throw them at Shelagh.  
“Because I might just get even. And I’d rather eat our lunch than have a food fight with it.”  
“We’d better get on with lunch then!”  
“Is that your way of saying that we need to eat and clean before Timothy arrives home from school and complains that you forgot to order food for him again?” Shelagh teased.  
“I’ll thank you to remember that I didn’t do the ordering, Ms. Mannion.”  
“You said the usual. And you do usually forget to order food for the boy. It’s a miracle he’s hitting his growth milestones with how often you forget to buy him a burrito.” Shelagh said with an eye roll.  
“It’s not as if I starve the boy. I can’t buy food for the house fast enough.” Patrick lamented. “Do you mind if he "helps” us today?“ Patrick asked.  
"Have I ever minded?” Shelagh asked.  
“Why don’t you? Why do you want to take on such baggage?”


	4. Part 4

Shelagh choked on her burrito. Once she’d swallowed her ill-timed bite and reassured a very distraught Patrick that she was, indeed fine, she looked at him seriously. “Patrick, why on earth would you ask me that? Why on earth would you even think that?”  
“Please don’t pretend you don’t hear them talking. I certainly do. And they’re careful about making sure I don’t hear. I work too much, I’m married to the church, I have a failed marriage under my belt already, and a small child…” Patrick rattled off everything that Shelagh had heard during coffee hours, holidays, and honestly, every single church function that had been held since Patrick had become the single, custodial parent of Timothy Turner, then, aged 18 months.  
“A small child who I happen to adore.” Shelagh pointed out. “As for the rest, I suspect that you would be happier, healthier, and work less if you had a reason to work less.”  
“Like wanting to race home to a certain mother figure for my son?” Patrick asked, though he didn’t know where he got the nerve to vocalize his deep longings to remarry, his longing to marry his secretary–to his secretary–at that.  
“You mind your cheek or you can scrub the fixtures with your son!” Shelagh scolded. “But yes. You’d worry less at work and therefore, be more productive. And then you’d have more time at home with your child. And the person you choose to spend your life with, if that’s a choice you wanted to make.” Shelagh tried to be tactful, but all she was thinking about was greeting Patrick at the door, with dinner ready, and making cookies for Timothy’s class just because.  
“Are we really going to do this?” Patrick asked, still too afraid to believe that this was really happening?  
“Patrick,” Shelagh started. The forehead crease reappeared and Patrick gulped. Here it comes, he thought to himself.  
“Yes?” He hoped she would be quick about it. About saying that it was a mistake, madness. He hoped she would be quick as she shattered his heart.  
“We already are. And if you think back, I think you’ll find that we’ve been doing it for years.”  
Patrick beamed, suddenly looking years younger and pounds lighter. Shelagh laughed, suddenly seeing just how like Patrick Timothy truly was. Just then, as Shelagh and Patrick were beaming at one another, Shelagh teasing Patrick that she would go blind from the brightness of his smile with her hand up to her face as if against the sun, Timothy walked in.  
“Why are you both so happy when you’ve probably forgotten my burrito. Again.” He sulked, walking over to hug Shelagh even though she confirmed that there was, in fact, no burrito for Timothy.  
“We’ve gotten you something even better than a burrito, Timothy.” Patrick said, glancing to Shelagh for her approval, which she gave via a small nod.  
“Please don’t make church work sound like it’s better than a burrito. I’ve got plenty of time to be a good person and do works for God but right now I don’t think a burrito is too much to ask for. Or ice cream, for that matter!”  
“Quite right, but that’s not what your father meant at all.” Shelagh said as Timothy buried his face in her torso as she closed her arms around him again.  
“How would you feel about Shelagh becoming part of the family?”


	5. Part 5

“Dad, it isn’t April Fools.”  
“I’m not joking.”  
“She’s not mad; why would she want to marry you? You’re you.”  
“Timothy Turner!” Shelagh exclaimed. Patrick’s face fell. “Please go sit in the church until you’re ready to apologize to both your father and me.” She told him with a push. Instantly, Shelagh was around the desk, guiding Patrick into his chair, realizing that he’d stood up to receive a hug from his son that had not been given, and her heart broke for him even more. She knelt down in front of his chair, her hands still on his arms. “Patrick…” Shelagh trailed off, eyes darting all over his face, not knowing what to say. What could be said following that? Where had it come from? Realizing that she had no idea what to do, but that she had to do something, Shelagh got up, moved into the space between Patrick’s legs, and folded him into her arms, his face buried where Timothy’s had been moments earlier. After a minute, Shelagh dropped kisses onto Patrick’s head. She heard him sigh then, and knew that he would start to cry soon. The shock was wearing off, leaving the emotional devastation plain for anyone to see. Patrick looked up into Shelagh’s eyes helplessly, and she leaned down, her lips meeting his for the first time. Quickly, the kiss turned from one of comfort and solidarity to a passionate one. When they parted, Patrick pulled Shelagh onto one of his legs and rested his forehead against against her cheek. “He’s not wrong. Just brutal.” Shelagh looked puzzled. Patrick continued, “Why would you want to be with me?” He asked sadly, already separating himself from the passion they had expressed in their kiss.  
“Because I love you.”  
“And the little stinker?” Patrick’s cheeky grin made a bit of a resurgence at Shelagh’s confession.  
Shelagh playfully swatted at his shoulder. “Him, too, though I think you’re within your rights to hold him for slave labor indefinitely for that one. No one is entitled to make the man I love crumble like that.”  
“He’d say his whole life has been nothing but indentured servitude, so he’d hardly notice a difference.”  
“He’s always had a way with his imagination.” Shelagh laughed. “Did he get that from his mother?” She asked tentatively, halting Patrick’s progress towards her lips.  
“Please don’t ask me about his mother while I’m trying to kiss you.”  
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Kiss away.” Shelagh giggled.  
“You are so naughty! I can’t believe what I’m hearing. And in the church office with the priest no less! How did you make it through school?”  
“I didn’t. Suspended for cheek at least once a year.”  
“Please never tell that to my son.” Patrick kissed her again. “But please always feel free to be cheeky and naughty with me.” Patrick winked.  
“I’m scandalized! The priest flirting with his secretary in the office while his son has time out in the church! Wait until I call the council on harassment! They’ll have a field day with this!” As Shelagh finished, Patrick suddenly stood up, lifting her with him and started walking towards the church.  
“Someone needs to go for confession!” Patrick said as he walked them to the church. “Or at least help the priest to smooth over a family crisis.”  
“With pleasure.” Shelagh wrapped her arms around Patrick’s neck and kissed him soundly.  
“So,” Patrick hovered outside of the church.  
“Yes?”  
“About Saturday…”  
“Yes?”  
“How about we have dinner in?”  
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shelagh grinned.  
“With Timothy, I mean.”  
“No, you don’t.”  
“You will, won’t you?”  
“What? Marry you? I do expect you to ask properly, but yes, of course.”  
“How soon do you think you’d be free for a meeting when the Bishop?” Patrick asked.  
“I think you’ll find that we can be on the Bishop’s calendar much faster than you would think.”  
“Why is that?”  
“Because you’ve forgotten that we have a meeting with him tomorrow. About the restoration grant.”


	6. Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The conclusion of my little church AU. Hope you’ve enjoyed it!

“And here I thought you were going to reveal some devious and possibly unsavory connection to the Bishop’s office that allowed you to use sorcery and other means to get yourself places on his calendar. I am disappointed, I must confess. It would be convenient to have an inside man in the Bishop’s office. Disappointment aside, though, this is the only time I’ve ever been excited about a meeting with the Bishop.” Patrick muttered, walking himself and Shelagh into the church.  
“I don’t think I have any blackmail material on the Bishop, actually… He and I have known each other for a long time, though…” Shelagh trailed off. “I think my sorcery is just that I don’t yell at his secretary, so when I need a favor, she’s more inclined to push people off to fit me in.” Shelagh winked at Patrick, who was aiming for the confessional booth. “I don’t think we need to have a proper confession, Patrick.”  
“No, I just want to make sure Tim hasn’t taken his apparent anger out on the booth.”  
“Like last time.” Shelagh said, knowing exactly to which instance Patrick was referring. “That was a bad one.”  
“I should have seen it coming…” Patrick was beating himself up again.  
“Patrick, no one apart from God himself saw that one coming.” Shelagh said, and Patrick knew that there was no room for discussion. He was glad to be able to share this with her.  
Patrick deposited Shelagh on the floor, and they each examined one side of the confessional booth, and then the outside. When it appeared fine, they set out looking for Timothy, who was likely to be hiding in a crevice.  
Not seeing Timothy in any of his usual hiding places, Patrick called for him, and Timothy slowly came out from underneath the altar, waiting to be yelled at.  
“Let’s have it, Dad. Show Shelagh what it’s really like.” Timothy jeered.  
“Let’s lock up. Go get your school bag.” Patrick told Timothy.  
“You’re shutting the office?” “We’re leaving EARLY?” Shelagh and Timothy both asked at the same time. Timothy hugged Shelagh, saying, “I think my life might have reached its end today, so I just want you to know I love you.”  
“I think we need ice cream.” Patrick said. Timothy took off running for the office, and Shelagh looked at him hopelessly confused as to what was happening.  
“I need all the practice I can get at setting boundaries and working less, don’t you think?” Patrick winked.  
Shelagh rose to her the balls of her feet and kissed him, pleased that he had been preparing to lean down to kiss her. “Kissing in a church… You’re not trying to tell me anything, are you, Shelagh?”  
“Nothing you’ve not already told me, Patrick. Now, let’s go get ice cream. And none of that ‘I’m too old for ice cream’ nonsense, Patrick. We’re all having ice cream.”  
“Yes, ma'am.” He mock saluted, and she mock smacked him for cheek.  
Shelagh started to walk away, but Patrick grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him. “Shelagh?”  
“Yes, Patrick?”  
“I love you, Shelagh.”  
“I love you, Patrick.”


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a request for the wedding of Fr. Turner and Shelagh (@sincerelygeertje) , so after a few days of thinking on it and A LOT of writing, I present THE WEDDING (almost)

Shelagh supposed the morning of her wedding was a strange time to ponder how it had come to be, but there she sat in front of the mirror, a spread of makeup and hair things before her, laughing as she remembered Patrick telling her “the bad news.”

“Shelagh, I’m afraid the Bishop is rather insisting on celebrating our wedding. I’m sorry; I know how fond of your childhood priest in Scotland you are… Perhaps we could persuade the Bishop to let him preach? No, the Bishop would never allow that….” Shelagh could have sworn she heard Patrick mutter the word blowhard under his breath, which is what sent her from barely concealed giggles into full-blown hysterics. “What’s so funny, Shelagh?”

“You don’t know?” Shelagh asked as she helped herself to Patrick’s handkerchief. “The Bishop,” she started, but again began to laugh so hard that she couldn’t speak. Patrick raised an eyebrow, “The Bishop? The Bishop is not that funny.” Patrick insisted.

“The Bishop,” Shelagh took a deep breath, “is,” and another, “my childhood,” and another, “priest.”

“Oh.” Patrick’s eyes went wide. “How much should I worry about that?” Patrick asked, his anxiety about their upcoming nuptials suddenly sky rocketing.

Shelagh laughed to herself, then seeing the time, began to brush her hair out. She had planned a simple updo, but then decided to only pull half of her hair up. She secured her hair with Kirby grips, and a far more generous amount of hairspray than she was convinced was necessary, just to be safe.

She moved onto her eyes, softly lining them, and then applying mascara and enough eye shadow to give a modest smoke effect. She wanted to look like herself today, not one of the women in the fashion magazines Shelagh saw the other women in town reading. She moved onto applying a light coverage moisturizer, and then to her blush. The color was enough to give her pale skin a dewy glow, and the blush was a delicate pink, enough to give colour but not so much that she would appear peaky. Her lip colour was another story. She had purchased 5 different colours, but hadn’t truly been happy with any of them. Shelagh assumed that deciding on a lip colour without having the rest of her makeup done was to ask for frustration, so she sat staring at her 5 options for far longer than she thought was reasonable. She grabbed the colour that was slightly pinker than a nude lip, applied it, blotted it, and took a sip of the champagne Patrick had left as a surprise for her.

Her favorite teacher, Sister Julienne, had come down from the convent and school Shelagh had attended for the occasion, and Shelagh was delighted to hear a knock on the door. She secured her silk robe (so extravagant!–Patrick had insisted) and let Sister Julienne in. Shelagh was surprised, but happy to see that Sister had not come alone. Her art teacher, Sister Monica Joan, especially, had been a surprise. Shelagh had spent her entire school education hearing that Sister Monica Joan should have been made to retire, but Shelagh had always admired Monica Joan. Too few people were willing to be exactly who they were, and Shelagh had always found Monica Joan’s authenticity refreshing. Sister Evangelina, however, had grumbled immediately about the lacquer young women used in their hair and on their faces, before an elbow from Julienne coaxed her into telling Shelagh how lovely she looked and how pleased she was to be given leave to travel down for her special day.

Sister Julienne immediately wrapped Shelagh into a hug. The last time Shelagh had seen any of the Nuns had been when Bishop was consecrated; the whole school staff had come down from Scotland for the consecration and the reception. They send letters in the winter, when the school internet was least reliable, and emails the rest of the year, so there was minimal catching up to be done.

Shelagh walked to the vanity, showed the bottle of champagne to the nuns, and poured a glass for each of them, ensuring that Monica Joan’s glass was the least full so gracefully and so effortlessly that Sister Julienne was overcome with an ache in her heart for the times that Shelagh had stayed after school to help her with grading, organization, and anything else she had been left to do.


	8. Epilogue, Part 2

Shelagh didn’t know the newer teachers very well; she had seen them on her Christmas Day Skype calls with Sister Julienne, and she knew that they had caught the train down with the Nuns, but hadn’t come in out of respect. Shelagh admired them; at one time she herself had been sure that she would return to Nonnatus School and Convent to teach, but God had directed her path away from Nonnatus, as much as it was possible for her to stay away from what was so fundamentally the core of who she was. Still, on the morning of her wedding, she had to admit that she had a pang of longing for what her life might have been otherwise. Shelagh looked to Sister Julienne, who had taught her how to organize a calendar, a budget, volunteers, how to negotiate contracts, and remembered Julienne tucking her five year old frame into one of the thick wool layers of her habit, she remembered how many tears, how much snot, and unfortunately, Shelagh recalled with a cringe, how much vomit the dark habit had absorbed whilst Shelagh was school-aged. She remembered calling out in her fevers, not for her family who were too poor to make the trip to school whenever Shelagh fell ill, but for Sister Julienne. She remembered the tender care the nun had given her over the years, the “just one more chapters” Julienne had endlessly indulged in. She wondered who would run Nonnatus School when Sister Julienne retired. Shelagh had never been sure that she would find happiness and fulfillment outside the walls of the school and convent, but Sister Julienne had promised she would, and that when she did, nothing would stop her being there to celebrate with her. As tears swirled in Shelagh’s eyes, she found similar emotions swirling in Julienne’s, and out of a habit thirteen school years in the making, Shelagh scrambled down the couch to tuck herself under the heavy sleeve of Julienne’s habit, not caring that she felt a girl of five again. Sister Evangelina looked on, her face softening, when she said, “See there, your family’s all here to celebrate with you like we always said we would be.” Shelagh let out a sob, and Evangelina corrected her, “Now don’t go and ruin your makeup. Today is a time to be happy.”

Julienne, sensing the direction was as much for her as it was for Shelagh, said, “Indeed it is, Sister. And we are very happy indeed for the happiness you have found, Shelagh. Now, shall we get you into your dress?”

They were stopped by a knock on the door. “Come in.” Shelagh softly called from Julienne’s side.

The Bishop walked in, smiling at the sight. “Well, if it isn’t a Nonnatus reunion!” He declared. “Now, Shelagh, I’ve just been into see your husband to be, and I’ve never seen him looking so polished! And that Timothy! He’s such a dapper little gentleman; far too cheeky for his own good. His poor dad is driving him out of his mind with his fretting! He told me to tell you that he can’t wait to see you walking towards him.” Shelagh smiled.

“I never…”

“I had hoped.” The Bishop said.

“Today is the day I have been praying for since you came to my office by yourself when you started kindergarten, and Patrick… You have always deserved the best, dear Shelagh, and you have found it in this life you have built with him.” Julienne told her. “Now, Bishop, I wonder if I could trouble you to pop into the church and ask the other teachers for the bag they are holding for Shelagh while we get her into her dress?”

“Of course, Sister.” The Bishop said, but before he left, he crossed the room to place a kiss on Shelagh’s forehead, telling her, “You’ve always been my favorite, Shelagh. Even if you were my cheesiest sacristan ever.” They both laughed, and Shelagh could have sworn that she saw Sister Julienne roll her eyes. Bishop crossed the room to give them the privacy they needed to get Shelagh dressed, and Shelagh reluctantly separated herself from Sister Julienne. Sister Monica Joan took this opportunity to make one of her declarations, and Sister Evangelina had begun to groan before her sister-in-Christ had even begun to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh! What pearls of wisdom do you think Sister Monica Joan is going to come out with?


	9. Epilogue, Part 3

“To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.“ Sister Monica Joan declared.

"Sister, I’m not sure that quoting Les Miserables is the most appropriate choice on the day of a wedding.” Julienne warned. Sister Evangelina took a less cautionary approach. “You with all your books think you know everything and that we’re all the intellectual equivalent of cockroaches but you’re wrong!” Evangelina paused for a deep breath, before a second go at Monica Joan, but Shelagh stopped her. “Perhaps not, Sister, but to build a life with someone, to vow to put their needs before your own knowing that you will sometimes fail but that you’ll always try is no small thing. It is brave, and many people will never be brave enough to truly love another person, isn’t that what you told me Rilke said? Maybe love is what gives life its colour and it’s meaning, but I don’t think it could be the only thing to make a life good. Surely, happiness takes other forms?” Shelagh looked to Julienne, not sure if what she had said made any sense.

“Yes, Shelagh, love shapes and orders our lives, it gives us purpose. Our callings are rooted in love, but God’s love and God’s grace surpass all that we experience in our human condition. But love takes many forms,”

“Rilke, child? I know not of Rilke or his musings on the human condition.”

“But Sister,” Shelagh started but Evangelina interrupted.

“You’ve had 2 Rilke quotes hanging in your classroom since you came to Nonnatus. One, "For one human being to love another human being: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been given to us, the ultimate, the final problem and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation.” And the second, “Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.” Don’t everyone seem so surprised I know them.“ Evangelina grumbled to the room, "I can read and I’m not so daft I can’t remember what’s been sat in front of my eyes the last 40 years.”

Shelagh shyly slid the silk robe from her shoulders, turning to Sister Julienne in her silk slip. Sister Julienne slid the dress–Shelagh’s wedding dress–from its hanger, noting that Patrick purchased a custom hanger, its metal curved into the words Mrs Turner. Sister Julienne unzipped the hidden zipper and Shelagh stepped into the dress, pulling it up to cover herself as she did.


	10. Epilogue, Part 4

Surprising the Nuns, Shelagh did not pull the sleeves up, but rather slid the straps of her slip down her shoulders and shimmied the slip off. After that, she pulled the sleeves up, and Sister Julienne began to zip Shelagh into her dress. The first thing Julienne noticed was that the zipper was hidden by a row of buttons, so anyone who saw the back would not know of the zipper. Shelagh turned to Julienne, unsure of what she would say. The dress was lace, and the neckline was generous, at least to a nun, hitting Shelagh’s shoulders and exposing her clavicles and the tops of her shoulder blades, before concealing her skin beneath the lace. The underlay was white silk, and to Julienne, it looked like her chest was covered by a heart. The sleeves, also lace, were elbow length, and her dress was cut shorter in the front so that Shelagh’s shoes would be visible. The back of the dress had a beautiful but modest train which began at the base of Shelagh’s zipper, giving the dress the illusion of much more fullness and of movement even when Shelagh was standing still. Julienne took both of Shelagh’s hands in hers, and there was a knock at the door before Julienne could begin to speak.

“Come in.” Julienne called.

The Bishop let himself in, and handed the bag to Evangelina, who had put herself between the Bishop and Julienne. She gave an item to Monica Joan, Julienne, and the Bishop, keeping one for herself, and handing the bag to Shelagh.

Shelagh opened the bag to reveal a beautiful, vintage tiara. “This is too much!” She exclaimed, but Julienne calmly reached into the bag to retrieve the tiara. Gently, she set it upon Shelagh’s hair, and reached for more Kirby grips to help secure the tiara. Shelagh watched the process in the mirror, disbelief written all over her face. “Something old,” Julienne told her. “Something new,” Evangelina told her, as she secured a pearl bracelet onto Shelagh’s right wrist. “Something borrowed,” Julienne told her, producing the most beautiful broach Shelagh had ever seen. Shelagh examined it closesly, and realized it was her clan’s crest. She didn’t know how she would incorporate it, but she was overcome with the sentiment. Just then, the Bishop produced a lace garter with a blue ribbon running through it, and exclaimed, “Something blue!” before securing the broach to the garter. “Now who’s cheeky, Bishop?” Shelagh asked.

Sister Monica Joan looked on, before explaining the legend of the ‘old, new, borrowed, and blue’ before producing a sixpence for Shelagh’s shoe with a wink.

“You’ve all been extravagant!” Shelagh scolded.

“On the contrary, Shelagh, we have given you less than you deserve,” Julienne started, but Evangelina quickly interrupted, “We have done this as a token of the love we have always felt for you.”

“This is your wedding day, Shelagh. Some extravagance is necessary.” The Bishop told her, “And your husband would have my head if this wasn’t the most special wedding I’ve ever celebrated, my dear.”

“I rather fear mine, as well.” Julienne seconded, taking Shelagh’s hand. The Bishop laid his hands on Shelagh’s shoulders, and Evangelina came to take Shelagh’s other hand. Monica Joan linked arms with Julienne and Evangelina, and the Bishop began to pray.

“Heavenly Father, we thank you for your servant Shelagh, for the sweetness of her personality, for her sense of humor, and for her heart. We thank you that you have brought Shelagh and Patrick together, and I thank you especially, and we thank you that you have seen fit to allow us all to be here to see them joined in holy matrimony.”

Julienne continued, “May you continue to bless Shelagh and Patrick, and may they bless others with their work in your name. May they never be too proud to apologize, nor too slow to do so. May they always readily and willingly forgive. May their days be full of love and laughter. May their sorrows be brief, their burdens be light, and may they never lose sight of the importance of what they share with each other. May their love for one another grow daily, may they always cherish one another, and may they each strive daily to show the other how loved they are.”

Evangelina continued, “May they grow to know what it truly means to love as they journey together through life. May they reach your Kingdom MANY years from now and discover that the life they have created for themselves was Heaven on Earth.”

“And may they be abundantly blessed with children.” Monica Joan decreed.

“All this we ask in the name of your Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen.” The Bishop concluded.

“Amen.” Shelagh, Julienne, Evangelina, and Monica Joan chorused.

“Are you ready, Shelagh?” Bishop asked her, as he, Evangelina, and Monica Joan walked to the door.

“I just need my shoes.” Shelagh said, still holding Julienne’s hand for dear life. She looked to her in a panic, “You will walk me down the aisle, won’t you?”

“Shelagh, you don’t need me to give you away.”

“But I do! I want you to. Please?”

“I have never been able to say no to you, Shelagh.”

Shelagh relaxed, and put her shoes on.

“Ready?” Julienne asked as she held her arm out for Shelagh to link hers.

“Yes. My bouquet is waiting for us in by the church door.” Shelagh told Julienne.


	11. Epilogue, Part 5

Sister Julienne lifted Shelagh’s bouquet from the stand and handed it to Shelagh. Shelagh took a deep breath, looked Sister Julienne in the eyes, and then looked forward resolutely. The door to the church opened, and it was time for them to walk down the aisle. Finally. In truth, neither of them particularly noticed the rest of the church, nor the music playing therein. The walk seemed to last an hour and a second simultaneously. All too soon, Julienne turned to face Shelagh, lifting the veil to reveal her in her radiance to Patrick.

“Who gives this woman to marry?” Bishop asked.

“I do.” Julienne declared. Unbidden, Sister Evangelina stood and said, “I do, too.” Shelagh and Julienne both looked back at Evangelina, in the first pew, and Shelagh smiled a watery smile at her. Julienne relieved Shelagh of her bouquet and went to sit next to Evangelina. Patrick took hold of Shelagh’s hands as soon as they were free, and did not let go.

Shelagh barely heard the proclamation of the lessons or the Gospel. The sermon passed, and all Shelagh was aware of was Patrick, holding her hands at the altar where soon, they would make their wedding vows. Patrick, for his part, wondered how they had gotten to the vows already, but supposed a bit of distraction was typical in these situations.

They made their vows, Timothy produced their rings–another extravagance, as Patrick had insisted Shelagh’s band have diamonds on like her engagement ring–, they exchanged their rings, they prayed, and then they said the Lord’s Prayer. Patrick did not ever remember being so overcome with emotion in a church service. Shelagh had long since stopped trying to understand her feelings.

Bishop celebrated a Eucharist, and when they had prayed the final prayer, after the dismissal, the Bishop had introduced them for the first time as Father and Mrs. Patrick Turner.

Patrick, not wanting any delays, had turned, kissed Shelagh, and lifted her up, running down the aisle of the church and back into the room where she’d gotten ready two hours earlier. Shelagh had dropped her head against his shoulder once he’d lifted her, and when they reached the room, he gently placed her on the couch, and crossed the room to close the door. He came and sat on the floor beside the couch, stroking her cheek. “Are you happy, my love?”

“Yes, Patrick. Of course I am.”

“Mrs. Turner,” he smiled, “it is our wedding day.”

“At last.”

He kissed her soundly, then. Shelagh thought back to just after their relationship began, when Patrick had uncomfortably explained that they would not be able to consummate their relationship until they were wed. Shelagh had suspected that would be the case, and in some respects, she was grateful for it, and she relaxed more because of it. In other respects, however, she felt as though she may explode from her need and her want of this man before they were wed.

“What were you thinking about, Mrs. Turner?”

“Tonight is our wedding night, Patrick.”

“At long last.” Patrick smiled. “I just wanted some time alone together before the party began.”

“I’m glad you did. It feels like it’s been ages since we were together.”

“I wanted to give you this, before the party. It’s from me, and someone else.” He said producing a small, wrapped box. Shelagh instantly recognized that Timothy had wrapped the package, and took great care as she opened it.

Inside the wrapping paper, he’d drawn a picture of the three of them eating ice cream that first day, and he’d written ‘Please will you be my mum?’

As Shelagh’s emotions swirled on her face, Patrick remembered the day that Shelagh had accepted his proposal. Timothy had come into his study looking uncomfortable, and when he had finally gotten Timothy to tell him why, he had cried. “It’s just that there’s typically a gift given to new mums and Shelagh’s a new mum. We have to, Dad. You can’t mess this up. I’ve never had a mum.” Timothy told him.

Shelagh started to cry, and Patrick opened the box for her, revealing an eternity band.

“The gift for new mums.” Shelagh gasped.

“Timothy insisted, and he was absolutely right. You’re a new mum, and the only mum he’s ever had. He didn’t want you to be left out of the tradition.” Patrick smiled, sliding the ring onto Shelagh’s finger. “Plus the wee devil likes watching me spend money.” Patrick laughed. Shelagh admired her left hand in shock. “It’s beautiful, Patrick. Everything about today has been… perfect.” Shelagh decided. She had dreams every night leading up to the wedding, and today had eclipsed all of them.


	12. Epilogue, Part 6

After a few more kisses and caresses, it was time for Patrick and Shelagh to leave their cocoon and join their families, friends, and parishioners for the party.

The Parish Hall looked lovely. Each table had a white table cloth on, and a centerpiece with a variety of white flowers and a photo of the Turners. The windows were decorated with white lace, and there were lace streamers hanging, as well. The church had real china and heavy duty utensils, which had been polished prior to today. There was wine, and champagne for toasting, and an eclectic assortment of delicious foods, including fish and chips, pastas, and Chicken Parmesan. Shelagh hadn’t realized that she was starving, so as soon as they were welcomed into the Parish Hall, she and Patrick made their way to the food. Shelagh put a bit of everything on her plate, making sure to take a full helping of chips, and then another glass of champagne. Patrick, smiling, took the same, and led her to their table, which they were sharing with Timothy. Timothy had been sat at the table by himself and was drawing, oblivious to the party. When they put their plates on the table, he looked up.

“Mum! Dad!” He exclaimed, getting up to hug Shelagh, and then inspecting her hand for his ring.

“You’re wearing it!”

“I love it, Timothy! Thank you so much!”

“Well, Dad paid for it.” He grumbled.

“But it was your idea.” Patrick told Timothy, smiling at the scene. He knew himself to be the luckiest man in all of England.

“Can I have chips?” Timothy asked.

“Come, I’ll take you to get your food. You can’t only have chips for your supper.” Shelagh told him, holding her hand out to him. Timothy took it, and asked Shelagh something that Patrick couldn’t hear as they walked away.

They returned a few minutes later, Timothy’s plate holding a mountain of chips and a few pieces of fish, with a spoonful of pasta for good measure.

“The Chicken Parmesan is quite good, Timothy.” Patrick told him.

“Didn’t want chicken.” Timothy told him, his mouth full of chips. “Mum said she got me something special for when the toasts are made.” Timothy smiled.

“Sparkling cider, so he’ll fit in.” Shelagh told Patrick.

“You really are the best mum.” Patrick stroked Shelagh’s cheek. Shelagh’s eyes closed, and she smiled as she leaned into his touch.

“What did he ask you on the way over?”

“He didn’t figure you’d let him have wine so he wanted to know if he could have pop.”

“Did we buy any pop?”

“No, but I told him about the sparkling cider and he snuck extra chips before agreeing it would be better than pop.” Shelagh laughed.

“He’s going to be a handful.” Patrick sighed.

“He already is.” Patrick told Shelagh.

“He’s a wonderful boy, Patrick.” Shelagh reassured Patrick.


	13. Epilogue, Part 7

After they’d eaten, Patrick and Shelagh went table to table to thank everyone for coming. The Old Guard had issued a threat to both Patrick and Shelagh: If Patrick ran her off, they’d have his head, and if Shelagh abandoned Patrick and Timothy, they’d have hers; then they smiled and wished them happiness, and went back to eating their meals. Patrick thought he’d heard them trying to decide how much they’d spent on the wedding, but opted to pull Shelagh, stood still from shock, to the next table, which happily, was filled with the Nuns and teachers from Nonnatus School and Convent. Sister Julienne, who Patrick was beginning to thank God for every hour, knew immediately that something was wrong, and quickly stood up and ushered Shelagh into her chair. She and Patrick knelt before Shelagh, who looked as though she was holding back tears after being slapped across her face, a look which, sadly, Julienne had seen before, and knew was accurate.

“Whatever they said does not matter.” Julienne told her.

“Why did they say it, then? Why did they come if they were going to say it?” Shelagh asked, her voice small.

Julienne and Patrick did not see the Bishop excuse himself to Sister Evangelina, who then excused herself to follow him to the next table.

“Which one of you hurt my Shelagh?” Evangelina bellowed from behind the Bishop.

“Bishop.” The Old Guard greeted him. They ignored Evangelina, which Bishop knew to be a mistake, but he would let them come to that understanding on their own.

“It appears there has been a misunderstanding that I’d like rectified. Do you mind if we sit?” Bishop and Evangelina sat themselves down before they could answer.

“A misunderstanding?” The angry one said? Evangelina wracked her mind trying to recall the names Shelagh had told her.

“Yes, Ms. Davies,” Bullseye, Evangelina thought to herself. The element of surprise had never failed her yet. “I’m rather afraid our girl has misunderstood your wedding wishes. She’s sat over there looking like she did after her father smacked her about her face and disowned her when she was seven, and then again when he died the next year and she was made to sit through his visitation and funeral even though he’d told her she wasn’t his daughter. I haven’t seen her look like that since she was 8 years old, and on her wedding day. So while you ought to be ashamed of yourselves, I want to know how you’re going to fix this.” Evangelina’s speech had impressed the Bishop. He wondered if he might enlist her to make some of his more challenging pastoral calls as he saw the looks of recognition slowly dawning on their faces.

At the Nonnatus table, Julienne and Patrick tried to pull Shelagh from the storm inside of herself. Timothy had lost sight of his parents, and finally caught a glimpse, and when he saw the look on Shelagh’s face, he ran over and sat in her lap, wrapping his arms around her neck.

“Who made you sad, Mummy? It’s your wedding. You’re not meant to be sad.” When Shelagh said nothing, Patrick kissed his son’s cheek. Timothy looked around, and saw the Bishop and Sister Evangelina, who in truth terrified him, sat at the Old Guard’s table, and he excused himself to join them, though he knew no one noticed.

“Which one of you upset my mummy?” He demanded with a fury he hadn’t known he could conjure.

“We…” Ms. Davies started, but Timothy cut her off.

“I don’t care what your intentions were. What matters is what happened and what’s happened is you’ve ruined mummy’s wedding day and IF SHE LEAVES ME BECAUSE OF YOU THEN YOU CAN GO TO HELL!” He yelled at them. “I know my first mum didn’t only leave me because of Dad’s work. You’re all cows.” Timothy declared.

“I quite agree with the boy,” Evangelina told them. “Bishop, how do you think Hell is this time of year?”

“Do you remember that terrible storm at Nonnatus?” Evangelina knew the one. “We lost power for a month because each night the cables froze over again. We couldn’t fix anything until the thaw. At night we could hear the stones in the walls grinding against each other. The foundation cracked. The fires barely made a difference. We had to have the children tripling up in their bunks so they didn’t freeze.” Evangelina added helpfully. “Well, Sister, I daresay this time of year in Hell would be worse than that.” The Bishop said.

The Old Guard were sat speechless, and Bishop and Evangelina were staring them down. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Timothy tugged at Evangelina’s sleeve, motioning her to lean down so he could whisper in her ear.

“Am I going to get into trouble for what I said?”

Evangelina smiled, and put a finger over her lips. In any other situation, he would have been punished for what he said, but today, she had no intention of letting the boy get in trouble for speaking the truth. She knew the Bishop would agree, and so she let that be the end of it.


	14. Epilogue, Part 8

Evangelina glanced at her watch, huffing at how much time they’d waited for the Old Guard to say anything, before pulling the Bishop’s sleeve. “Let’s go, Bishop. We’re not getting anywhere here.” She said loudly. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance that Father missed what you said?” Bishop asked. Ms. Davies nodded her head ‘no’, a look of shock still all over her face. “Good luck, then.” Bishop said.

“Was that all terribly unchristian of us?” Evangelina asked.

“One could argue so.”

“And yourself?”

“Wrong thing for the right reason; I’d say we’re going to be just fine.”

“Timothy!” Evangelina called to the boy. She’d had a nagging sensation from when he spoke to the women, and wanted to know what else he knew.

“You said I wasn’t in trouble!” He said when he appeared before Evangelina and the Bishop.

“And you’re not. But you know more than you let on and I’d like to know what else you know.”

“She wasn’t just fed up with Dad.” Timothy shrugged.

“Go on.” Evangelina prompted.

“They told her that she wasn’t being a priest’s wife properly. That her parties were never good and that her decorations were appalling. That she was an embarrassment to Father Turner. They told her she would never be good enough instead of helping her. And Dad worked too much to notice anyway. So one day she just left. I don’t really remember her at all but when I was maybe 3 I heard them saying that they had run her out and they were proud of it, but then they were saying that Dad had gotten worse at his job with having to juggle me and how they had just prayed that she would take me, too, so maybe he would be good at his job. They didn’t feel guilty because they figured he never loved us. But he did. They just always made new problems to keep him from us and new parties for my mum to throw and neither of them could keep up. And then she left.”

“And throughout all of this, you’ve been the one to suffer most.” Evangelina concluded.

“Well, yes, but at least I don’t have to preach on love and all that every Sunday to a group of piranhas who think I’m a complete failure because I couldn’t keep my wife when they’re all the reason she left.” Timothy told them. “Can you excommunicate them?” He asked the Bishop, who had hoped to eavesdrop unnoticed on Evangelina’s talk with the boy.

“I wish, Timothy. I would do if I could. They’ve bloody done you enough harm. And now Shelagh.”

“Listen, young Turner.” Evangelina announced. “This is what we’re going to do. Do you have a key to your father’s office?”

“No, but I can break in. The gate has holes and I can put my fingers through and open the door.”

“Let’s go.” Evangelina rallied.

The Bishop supposed he shouldn’t condone the young child of one of his priests breaking into his father’s office, but he desperately wanted to know what Evangelina was planning. He himself had been on the receiving end of a number of her plans, and knew from experience that this was going to be a triumph of scheming.

“I take it you know where everything is?” Evangelina asked. Timothy nodded. “And do you know the login?” Timothy did. “We’re going to create a calendar and a to do list with everything that’s coming up. All the parties, all the celebrations, everything will be on this list. No one is going to make Shelagh look a fool on my watch.”

“But what if they do?”


	15. Epilogue, Part 9

“I will make them wish they were never born.” Evangelina scowled.

Timothy gulped, and began to assemble the calendar for his Mum. Between the calendar on his Dad’s bulletin board, the email calendar which Mum had put together, and searching old emails, Timothy felt that he had accounted for all of the usual parties. The Rectory Open House Wine and Cheese Party, Timothy’s least favorite, was up next, followed by the Fall Harvest Festival, in which parishioners brought store bought veg to the festival to be cooked and everyone pretended they’d grown everything themselves. Dad made mulled wine and child-friendly cidre each year. After the Harvest Festival, they had an Advent Party, hosted in the Parish Hall, and then a New Years Party, unfortunately held in the rectory. Valentine’s Day Dance, Timothy remembered. They tried that beginning a few years back. It was a disaster each year, but they had it, so he noted it. Things quieted down until Easter after that, and then there were a few made up holidays and parties; Father Turner’s Anniversary Party, a Summer Barbecue, the Summer Fête, replete with a play Timothy was always made to participate in, the Back to School Party–which, at least served a purpose, as they assembled school supplies for the scholarship children at the local schools. And then they’d start the calendar all over again.

Timothy wrote what he remembered of each event, surprising himself, and Sister Evangelina, with how much he knew of the goings on of his father’s church. Occasionally, the Bishop or Evangelina made suggestions or changes, but when they were done with the list, it included vendors, donors, and themes for every party the church had in a year, and which groups to ask to volunteer for each party.

Satisfied that no one would make a fool of Shelagh, Evangelina decided that they would rejoin the party, or what was left of it.

“Timothy! There you are!” Shelagh called when they returned. “I was worried about you!” She said as she hugged him. Patrick took a different approach, seeing Timothy walk out with both Sister Evangelina and the Bishop.

“What trouble have you gotten into now? You know you’re not meant to embarrass me in front of the Bishop.” Patrick scolded.

“He’s in no trouble. He has been most generous and indeed very helpful to myself and the Bishop.” Sister Evangelina told Father Turner, who didn’t believe her.

“You wouldn’t have happened to mouth off to Ms. Davies and her friends, would you, Timothy?”

“Actually, that was Sister Evangelina and myself.” The Bishop said too quickly for Patrick’s liking. “Horrid old hags. Have they gone?” Bishop asked.

“Yes, and I rather fear they may have left the parish entirely.” Patrick told his superior.

“Between me and thee,” the Bishop whispered, “count your blessings.” He winked. Timothy giggled.


	16. Epilogue, Part 10

Evangelina was happy to see that between Julienne and Patrick, they’d gotten Shelagh into a better state of mind. She didn’t necessarily approve, but she saw Julienne take Shelagh by the hand and spin her, then begin to dance with her. She motioned to Patrick, who took a picture of the scene. They would be glad to have it, Evangelina knew.

“Now, young Turner,” Evangelina set her sights once more on the boy, “there is the matter of your parents’ honeymoon.”

“What about it?”

“You know you aren’t going with them.” Evangelina told him.

“Why not? They said I could.”

“Shelagh and I discussed it. Timothy is going to come with us.”

“That’s all very well and good but then what you’ve got is a family vacation, not a honeymoon. Shelagh deserves and wants a honeymoon.”

“She said that?” Patrick blanched.

“She would never say that.” Evangelina arched an eyebrow as if to say ‘That’s the point.’

“So I thought you could compromise.” Evangelina started.

“We’re meant to go to Scotland.” Timothy said.

“And you know what else is in Scotland?”

“Nonnatus.” Patrick had an idea of where Evangelina was going.

“First, Timothy can come for a holiday of his own to Nonnatus; he’ll have the school to himself as there aren’t students yet. Get to see where his Mum grew up and get to know all his aunties and grannies better, and you two can have a proper honeymoon. And then the three of you can have a family vacation after.”

“We wouldn’t want to impose on you, and this is all short notice…”

“Nonsense!” Julienne exclaimed. “We would love to have Timothy to spoil. He is part of our family now, and we do intend to spoil him.”

“How long were you thinking?” Patrick asked skeptically, his eyes turning to Shelagh’s, which were looking down.

“You’re meant to be gone two weeks,” Evangelina said; Patrick had no idea how she knew what she knew. “So how about Timothy spends a week with us and a week with you lot.”

“Timothy, dearest,” Shelagh knelt down to meet Timothy’s eyes, “it’s okay if you don’t want to go to Nonnatus. No one will be angry,” Shelagh began to explain, but was cut off by Evangelina, “Young Turner. You are not a baby. Your parents would appreciate some alone time before they holiday with you. There are private adult things which you may not want to see.” Then, she motioned him so that she may whisper in his ear, his face contorted, and Timothy even let out a gag.


	17. Epilogue, Part 11

“Mum? I know you love me but I’ll be fine for a week at Nonnatus. Let you two get your mushy stuff out before you scar me for life.” He gagged again.

“Good lad.” Evangelina patted his shoulder. “Now, the Bishop and I are in need of refreshments.” Evangelina excused them, dragging Timothy with them.

“What just happened?” Shelagh asked.

“I believe Sister Evangelina has given you and your husband a week of honeymooning to yourselves and a week of family vacationing with Timothy.” Sister Julienne said, as confused as Shelagh and Patrick were. She knew her Sister in Christ well enough to know that there was far more going on than she was letting on, and from experience, knew that she should be concerned, as it more than likely involved Shelagh.

“Why would Timothy agree so quickly?” Shelagh asked.

“I believe your former teacher WHO HAPPENS TO BE A NUN explained to our son what exactly happens on a honeymoon.” Patrick exclaimed.

“Oh.” Shelagh’s eyes went wide. “That’s not good.”

“No, but I suppose now he’ll be more careful about just barging into rooms, which could only be a good thing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been having a shower and come out to find him on my toilet when there are two others in the house.”

“Why?”

“He says the shower warms the seat and when I object on the basis of privacy, he says, ‘So do you want me to catch ill from a freezing cold toilet?’ He’s always been too clever and too cheeky for my own good.”

“Patrick….” Shelagh started, then stopped.

“Yes, Shelagh?”

“What do you suppose is really going on?” Shelagh asked

“I’m not sure, my dear, but I intend to find out.” Julienne promised, wrapping an arm around Shelagh.


	18. Epilogue, Part 12

At the end of the night, Patrick and Shelagh made their way back to the rectory. Patrick was whispering into Shelagh’s ear, making her laugh. Sisters Julienne, Evangelina, and Monica Joan watched them through the window; it seemed an intimate moment, one that their witnessing was an intrusion into the privacy of the newly married couple. They hadn’t wanted to stay with the Turners that night, their wedding night, but the Bishop had been unable to secure them an alternative. They’d left the party a bit earlier and so were set up in the living room, with Evangelina having put a sleeping Timothy to bed in his own room. The Nuns watched Patrick lift Shelagh as he had in the church and carry her up the front stairs, into the house, and straight upstairs to their bedroom. Shelagh had tossed a ‘Goodnight!’ over Patrick’s shoulder, and then the Nuns settled in for the night.

Upstairs, Patrick deposited Shelagh into their bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him, then crossing the room to kiss her soundly.

“I can’t believe we’re finally alone.” Shelagh told him.

“Did you have a good day, love?”

“The best day. How was yours, dear?”

“Oh, it was perfect. I married the most beautiful, caring, kind woman I’ve ever seen, and now I get to show her how I really feel about her.”

“Do you?” Shelagh teased.

“Oh yes.” Patrick breathed.

“And does she feel the same of you?”

“God, I hope so.” Patrick bent to kiss Shelagh, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and her waist, then dropping kisses down her neck. Shelagh disentangled herself from her husband and walked to a mirror to take her tiara off, and then to remove the Kirby grips from her hair so it hung loose. Patrick followed, entranced by her every movement.

“Patrick, would you give me a hand with the zipper?” Shelagh asked. Sister Julienne had laid out Shelagh’s slip and nightgown for her in the bathroom, and had put the hanger on the towel bar, so once she was unzipped, she could hang her gown, and redress herself before meeting her husband in the bedroom.

Patrick placed a kiss to the back of Shelagh’s neck before unzipping her halfway and retiring to their bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind him so that Shelagh could remove her gown and put her robe on. Shelagh wasn’t sure if she should leave her bra on, so she took her time smoothing her wedding dress out and then hanging it up. She admired it, and then pulled her slip over her head, and put her robe back on. She ran her fingers through her hair a few times, easing the stiffness of the hairspray without disrupting the curls too much. She faced herself in the mirror, eyes bright from a good day.

When she opened the door, she saw Patrick had discarded his jacket, and had undone his tie letting it hang loose over his neck, rolled his sleeves up to the elbow, and was turning to set something on his nightstand, his cufflinks, she supposed. She leaned against the doorframe, watching him, she noticed something on their bed, and a rose on her nightstand.

“Shelagh,” Patrick said when he turned and saw her.

“Patrick,” She smiled, “what’s all this?”

“I got chocolates for us.” He smiled, motioning to the box between the pillows, “and a rose for you.”

“I never thought I’d have so many roses in my life, let alone in one day.” Shelagh told him, pushing off the doorframe to meet him on his side of their bed–the new bed they’d picked out together before their wedding. It had been delivered just this morning, so it was the first night in their bed for both of them. Shelagh kissed Patrick, then sat on his side of the bed, scooting over to the centre. Patrick swore he could feel his heart grow as she’d done that, imagining her as a little girl doing that before bed. Patrick shook his head and sat down, running his fingers through his hair. He realized he’d not yet discarded his tie, and took it from beneath his collar and tossed it onto his nightstand, and as he did, Shelagh opened the box of chocolates and began to study them, unsure of which one she wanted. Patrick quickly snatched a dark chocolate from the corner with a look of victory on his face, which turned to one of deep disappointment when he bit down on the chocolate. Shelagh laughed at the scene.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s bitter!”

“It’s 72% cacao; the box says that there are varying degrees…”

“I’d hoped it had mint in.” Patrick told her seriously.


	19. Epilogue, Part 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to get intimate here.

Shelagh leant across the box of chocolates to stroke Patrick’s cheek, which led to him kissing her palm, which led to her moving the chocolates so she could kiss him properly. She had been nervous about how the night would go; her only points of reference having been the internet and the health lessons she’d gotten at Nonnatus, and she was not prepared to ask Sister Julienne what she might mentally prepare herself for. She hoped that Patrick didn’t know the extent of her nervousness this evening. But this, here and now, was them. It felt normal, which put her mind at ease. She couldn’t deny that the thought of tonight had also excited her. She was eager to learn what sleeping curled under Patrick’s arm would feel like, eager to see his eyes as he saw her, as they gave to one another; she tried not to think often on it as she knew that her desire for him was strong and it made her breathe heavily, made her heart race, made her mind empty, made her vision narrow so only he existed in the world with her. But now, they were tucked away in their bedroom on their wedding night, and she soon would no longer have to wonder what it might be like to be his wife, to share their lives together. She was his wife now, and what they each felt separately they would now feel and share together every day for the rest of their lives.

“What are you thinking of?” Patrick asked her, playing with her hair because he could, marveling at the feeling of them together in their room at long last.

“Of you,” Shelagh’s pupils dilated as she looked to Patrick’s face.

“And what else?” Patrick prompted.

“Of us.” Shelagh curled her hand around his, and brought his hand from her hair to her cheek. She leaned into his touch again.

“What of us?”

“Of how it will be when we…” Shelagh trailed off.

Patrick motioned to her robe, and Shelagh nodded. He brushed one side back to reveal her clavicle, and brushed the back of his fingers against the skin he’d found there, noting the flushed colour her skin took when he did.

“It will be wonderful, because it will be us together, feeling close and more connected than ever.” Patrick told her.

Shelagh nodded, and untied her robe to reveal her slip. Patrick unbuttoned his oxford and removed it.

Shelagh selected a chocolate and made eye contact with him before she bit into it, then poked her tongue out to gently lick her lips clean of the chocolate. With a boldness that surprised them both, she held the other half of the chocolate to Patrick’s mouth, then handed the box to him. As he turned to put it on the overcrowded nightstand, she made a decision.


	20. Epilogue, Part 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter definitely turns things up a notch or two or three.

He didn’t see her move, but when he turned back to her, she was in his lap, hands in his hair, placing kisses on his neck. He wrapped his arms around her low back, feeling her hips in his hands. He moved his hands beneath her bottom, pulling her upwards onto her knees so that he could kiss her lips. Shelagh’s hands found Patrick’s neck and his shoulders as he deepened their kiss. He gave her bottom a gentle squeeze, and she moaned and sank onto him, which caused them both to moan.

“May I?” He’d asked as he teased the strap of her slip. She moved backwards so that she was sitting on her feet, and she watched Patrick remove his undershirt and belt, then he lifted to remove his trousers. Shelagh lowered the straps of her slip and shimmied it down her body as she had earlier in the day, and she watched Patrick’s eyes as they moved down her body, darkening as they did. She wondered how dark her own eyes must be. Her slip now discarded, she crawled back onto Patrick’s lap, straddling him as they kissed again. He unclasped her strapless bra and rubbed the skin of her back where her bra had left an indentation. He moved her hair from her face to behind her ear; she’d always loved when he did that, and she was discovering that she loved when his hands found her bum. He helped Shelagh to move atop him, and her eyes fluttered shut, her face turning slightly from him. Patrick cupped her chin so that he could look her in the eyes; Shelagh nodded, her breathing heavy. Patrick moved slowly, one hand coming behind her head, and one onto her low back, then he rolled her down into their bed and knelt between her legs. He moved to kiss her lips again, stroking her cheek, then moving down to kiss her neck, her clavicles, her shoulders, her arms, her ribs. Shelagh squirmed under Patrick’s mission to leave none of her flesh unkissed, though she had noticed he had bypassed her breasts entirely. From her ribs, he kissed his way about her stomach, down to the protrusions of her iliac crests. Again, he bypassed her pelvis, leaving her knickers were they were, and moved to kiss his way around her legs. Her inner thighs were ticklish, as were her knees, her ankles, and her feet. When Patrick had finished kissing Shelagh’s feet, her eyes were wet from laughing, and Patrick took both her feet into his lap and began to rub them. As Shelagh relaxed, Patrick varied the pressure, and then began to massage up her calves.

“Oh that feels so good.” Shelagh breathed, eyes half closed in relaxation.

As Shelagh’s eyes closed fully, Patrick moved to kiss her, and then lifted her head and shoulders so he could squeeze between her and their headboard. He began to massage her scalp, and then her neck and her shoulders as she lay in his lap.

“Good?” He asked, noticing that Shelagh was so relaxed she was nearly asleep.

“Mmhmm.” Shelagh sighed. Patrick looked down at her face, memorizing how she was in this moment, smiling. He gently removed his hands from her shoulders, one hand coming to rest beside him on their bed, the other gently smoothing Shelagh’s hair.


	21. Epilogue, Part 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me quite a long time to write. I wasn’t sure how I wanted to portray this, if in fact I did want to. Translating emotions into words is not the easiest thing to do… but in this chapter, the deed is (finally) done. I have been inspired by many writers in our community, and of course wanted to make sure that what I wrote was authentic to this AU and true to the characters. If you don’t want to read about the consummation, please return for tomorrow’s chapter. I promise you’ve not missed any plot.

About fifteen minutes later, Shelagh woke, seeing Patrick’s face above hers. “Did I fall asleep?” She asked sheepishly.

“Yes,” Patrick smiled.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I was enjoying watching you sleep.” Patrick confessed. Shelagh blushed.

“Were you going to let me sleep the whole night?”

“I hadn’t thought that far.”

“It’s our wedding night, Patrick. I want you.”

Patrick extracted himself from where he sat, and lay down next to Shelagh, kissing her, rubbing the skin of her arms and her ribs, tangling his leg between hers, feeling her heat and knowing that what she had said was true. He gently moved to cup her breast, teasing the nipple before kissing her breast, and sucking her. Her sensitivity surprised the both of them. He rolled her off her side onto her back so he could repeat the process with her other breast, then kissed and licked down her stomach to her knickers.

“I think it’s time you took those off, Patrick.” She told him, so he did, followed by the remnants of his clothes.

Patrick knelt between Shelagh’s legs, and she sat up to kiss him, with him coming down onto all fours to meet her. For an instant as she sat up, she felt the need to cover her breasts, but decided not to. Patrick stroked her cheek and asked her if she was comfortable laying down. She was. So when she lay back down, Patrick moved to cover her body with his own, his pelvis finding a home at hers. One of her legs bent at the knee of its own volition, opening up her lower body and giving him more room. Gently, he touched her, circling her clit and watching the pleasure his fingers brought wash over her. He moved, one finger finding its way inside her, then stroked her, watching her face mesmerized. He removed his finger, and Shelagh groaned, but Patrick quickly moved a second finger into position so that he could open her further. He guided himself, and asked Shelagh if she wanted to watch. She propped herself up on her elbows and saw him, ready to enter her, and smiled. They kept their eye contact as he did, moving slower than he ever thought possible, giving Shelagh’s body more than enough time to adjust to him. Shelagh sank back down, and Patrick looked deeply into her eyes. “I love you.” He told her.

“I love you.”

Slowly, he moved, his eyes never straying from Shelagh’s face. She had lost track of time completely, and if the rest of the house had fallen away, she wouldn’t have noticed. She was lost inside this world of their own creation. She had wondered about the physicality, but she had not realized the emotions that would come along with this sacred act. She was unprepared for the openness she felt, and was equally unprepared for the sense of completion, as though this was what she had been made for, and that now that she had known what it was like to be his wife, she would always ache outside of their bed. The pleasure had come quickly and built, a delicious, different sort of ache inside her, and she wondered how it was for Patrick. Did he ache?

Afterwards, Patrick had excused himself to the bathroom, returning a moment later with a warm flannel. He tenderly cleaned her, and she wondered about this devotion between the two of them–was it typical? Would it last?–as she watched him. He discarded the flannel, and got back into bed, covering them to their stomachs with the sheets. He rolled onto his side and propped up on an elbow, looking at her. She had stayed on her back, but rested her cheek flat onto her pillow so that he could see her whole face. His other hand stroked her cheek, then he came to kiss her forehead and her cheek. He raised an eyebrow.

“I never knew it could be like this.”

“Like what, Shelagh?” Patrick asked.

“Like our souls coming back together at long last after searching for one another for ever. It was… overwhelming.”

Patrick kissed her deeply, and gathered her to his side. She rested her head on his shoulder, hearing his heartbeat, and smiled. Patrick joined her hand with his, they kissed again, told each other how much they loved one another, and slept soundly. In Shelagh’s dreams, she saw their life together–her making dinner, bathing children, reading to them, putting them to sleep, and then her evenings with Patrick afterwards. She hoped each night would be as last night was.


	22. Epilogue, Part 16

Patrick woke with the sun the next morning, watching Shelagh sleep until she’d woken, to the smell of food. Patrick assumed either Timothy or the Nuns had gotten hungry and had made food, which he didn’t mind at all. He was grateful to them for taking Timothy for a weeks’ holiday so that he and Shelagh could honeymoon properly. There was a knock at the door, followed by heavy footfalls back down the stairs. Patrick gave it a minute, watching confusion dawn on Shelagh’s face, before wrapping himself in a sheet and going to the door.

On the floor was a tray with breakfast for Patrick and Shelagh. Someone, he didn’t know who, had made Full English breakfasts. Patrick lifted the tray, shut the door behind him, and walked back to bed.

Shelagh examined the tray and found a letter between the tea cups. It was still dry only because the tea was still brewing in an industrial looking tea pot.

“It’s Sister Julienne’s writing.” Shelagh told him, her brow creasing slightly.

“Good morning, Patrick and Shelagh!

We’ve taken the liberty of making ourselves quite at home. Timothy woke up early and volunteered to show us to the market, where we purchased more breakfast supplies. We wanted to make sure you had a good breakfast before you set out.

Our train back to Nonnatus is set to leave tonight, so we will lock up for you after you leave this afternoon.

Enjoy your morning.

Sr. Julienne”

Patrick poured the tea, and began to examine the food before them. “Shall we?”

Shelagh nodded enthusiastically.

“You’ve quite an appetite this morning, love.” Patrick told Shelagh.

“And you thought I could eat a lot on a regular day.” Shelagh teased.

“Are you excited for our holiday?”

“Yes, and for our honeymoon.”

“Shelagh,” Patrick started. He wasn’t quite sure how to say it, but he had to ask.

“Yes?” Shelagh asked, fried bread halfway to her mouth.

“Sister Evangelina said you wanted a proper honeymoon but you’d never ask for it. Because of Timothy?”

“Patrick, I would never demand that we leave Timothy out of something. We would still have had a honeymoon if we’d brought Timothy. We would have had fun and had good memories, as well. But I can’t say that I’m not excited to have you to myself for a week.”

“Shelagh, you must tell me what you need, and what you want. I don’t want to make any mistakes, and if you don’t want Timothy along for something you must tell me.”

“Patrick, I love Timothy. I’ve been there for almost his whole life. When he needs cookies for school, he asks me. He doesn’t remember a time when I wasn’t being his mum. How can I say that I don’t want to bring our little boy to something? That’s horrid!”

“You wanting time alone for us doesn’t mean you love Timothy any less. And we need time alone. We will always need to make time for the two of us to be together.”

“Are you sure he’ll be alright without us?” Shelagh asked.

“You turned out well enough.” Patrick teased. “It’ll just be a week, and I don’t believe for a moment that Sister Julienne was joking about spoiling Timothy. It will be good for everyone. I promise.”

Shelagh had no choice but to acquiesce. “Last night…” Shelagh started.

“We should talk about when we’ll want to add to our family.” Patrick said suddenly. “We’ve not spoken much about having children, but we’ve not spoken at all about when we’d like them. I should have thought of that last night…” Patrick scolded himself.

“You had other things on your mind, Patrick. So did I.” Shelagh told him. She worried, though; she tried not to imagine the future often, and wasn’t sure if she’d ever have children of her own. It seemed selfish to want for more when she had Patrick and Timothy, who were more than she had ever dared hope for herself.

“What are you thinking, Shelagh? Tell me; please.” Patrick pleaded. The look on her face, a mix of fear and concern and worry threatened to break his heart.


	23. Epilogue, Part 17

“This is all so much more than I deserve to have. It’s more than I ever wanted for myself. I just,” Shelagh sighed, her forehead creasing as she tried desperately to translate her emotions into words which would explain why she felt as she did. Patrick watched her as her eyes scanned the bed back and forth and back and forth as if she was reading, waiting for her to speak again. “My father told me I’d never have this, after mum died, and I believed him and here I am, here we are, and it’s so overwhelming and I’m worried that if I want more, if I’m not satisfied with what I have now, it will all be taken away from me. I don’t want to want more.”

“But you do?”

Shelagh nodded, breathing heavily, “I want so much more.”

Patrick tried not to panic. “What do you want, Shelagh?”

“Babies. I want to make cookies for Tim’s class and to have dinner ready when you come home at night. I want cozy nights in with you. I want to go out. I want us to make love every single night.”

“But you’re worried.”

“Desperately.”

“I know you, Shelagh, there’s more to what you’re thinking.”

“I’m worried that the babies will take me away from you.”

“Marriage is balance, and, yes, babies can throw that a bit off kilter at first, but we’ll sort it out, don’t worry.” Patrick reassured Shelagh.

“That’s not what I meant.” Shelagh said softly, her words like ice water on Patrick’s skin and an ice knife through his heart.


	24. Epilogue, Part 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Does contain descriptions of violence and abuse***

“Why do you think that, Shelagh?”

“I… I know it’s different now.”

“What is, Shelagh?”

“Everything. We aren’t in Scotland, I have savings, we have the National Health, but when my father disowned me for telling him that it was his fault Mum and the baby died, he,” Shelagh hiccuped and a fresh wave of tears made their way down her face, “he told me I always wanted too much and that I would never be happy because I couldn’t ever appreciate what I’d been given. I went to Nonnatus on scholarship and drained our money faster for it, and then at age 7 I was planning to go to university after Nonnatus! University! Me! A girl!”

“What else did he say?”

“That I wanted the world but I wasn’t pretty enough to have those doors opened to me. That it was my fault that they couldn’t have proper medical care. That if they hadn’t paid my school fees–the scholarship covered my tuition and my room and board, but there were supplies I needed that even Sister Julienne couldn’t get for me to borrow; he paid almost nothing for me but we had almost nothing to begin with–that maybe he could’ve taken Mum to be seen by a doctor. He told me it was my fault that Mum and the baby had died. I argued with him and he hit me and told me to apologize. I wouldn’t. I told him I’d tell Sister Julienne what he’d done. That she’d call the police and that she would protect me. That she was my family more than he was. He kept hitting me and yelling at me to apologize. I wouldn’t. I guess he was tired, or wanted a drink. He stopped, disowned me, and walked out. He died the next year.”

Patrick couldn’t believe what he’d just heard, and intently spread butter and jam on his toast.

“I don’t want to want more than what we have. And I know it’s all different now, but I’m so scared that my wanting more will be what takes me away from you and from Timothy. I’m just terrified. Every single day.”

“You’re not alone, Shelagh. You never have been. You’ve always had Sister Julienne and the rest of Nonnatus. Now you have me, as well. And Timothy, too. And no matter what you decide, we will always support you.”

“I know what I want, Patrick. But I don’t know what we want. It’s not just what I want.” Shelagh told him gently.


	25. Epilogue, Part 19

“There is nothing I want more than for us to grow our family, but not if it will make you uncomfortable or upset or afraid. We have all the happiness we need here with each other and with our little Timothy. But if you want to try, we will. Whenever you want, however you want. You need to be in control of this, Shelagh. Say the word, or don’t. We will be happy no matter what.” Patrick told her, feeding her a bite of his toast. She poured the tea and fiddled with the handle of her teacup before taking a sip.

“I believe when we return we’ll have a new set of china.” Patrick said.

“There’s nothing wrong with your china, Patrick. It’s frivolous to register for things we don’t need.”

“Which is why Sister Evangelina has agreed to pack up the old set and bring it to the charity shoppe. This is a fresh beginning, for all of us, and we should mark it with fresh, new things. I don’t want you to ever feel second to Timothy’s birth mum. I don’t want you cooking meals and serving them on china you don’t like because you didn’t get to pick out your own. You deserve everything I can give you and more.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the china, Patrick.” Shelagh protested.

“So if we were to go in and see the patterns, you’d have picked this one for our house yourself?” Patrick asked incredulously.

“Well, no, it isn’t a pattern I would have picked for myself, but,”

“I know, but there’s nothing wrong with it. But you don’t love it, and that is something wrong with it, Shelagh.”

Shelagh remembered the countless hours Sister Julienne had spent, telling her that the awful parts of her past wouldn’t hurt her forever, that her father couldn’t have been more mistaken in his assessments of life and of her if he had tried, and Shelagh smiled a bit at the memory of a Nun telling her that wanting things of this world, things which she herself had renounced long before Shelagh first took breath, would not mark the end of the world. Sister Julienne had always been so certain that Shelagh would one day find the happiness she deserved, and had been comforted by that knowledge. Shelagh herself had been dreading that day; the day she thought that it would all fall apart.

“Endings are their own beginnings, and each beginning has an ending. Some are happy, some are sad, some are disappointing, but often those are the ones that will lead you to your joy.” Shelagh said aloud, more to herself than to Patrick.

“What’s that, love?”

“I know what china I want, Patrick.” She declared, then she snatched a piece of bacon from the tray, and examined her teacup. “Sister Julienne used to hide messages in the tea at school.” She told him when she noticed his raised eyebrow.

“How did she do that?”

“Once she broke into the art supplies. It was Holy Week and we weren’t allowed to speak outside of our classes and the daily offices. I was struggling, and she arranged for each of my teacups to provide the advice she knew I needed.”

“I thought Nuns weren’t allowed to set bad examples for their cheeky students!” Patrick teased. “Clearly she was an accomplice to your yearly suspensions! What would the Bishop say?”

“I rather suspect some of her ideas came to her by way of the then-Father.” Shelagh contemplated. “Maybe I’ve taken the wrong teacup.” Shelagh switched hers with Patrick’s. “Oh yes, there it is.”

“I hadn’t noticed it, love, what does it say?”

“You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of.”

Patrick nodded, though in truth he had no idea from whence the quote came.

“It’s Albert Camus. The line finishes, "You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.” It was always my favorite of her teacup pep talks.“ Shelagh smiled.


	26. Epilogue, Part 20

“These pep talks were a habit?” Patrick smiled.

“Well, Father Turner, as you may remember, Holy Week comes around once a year, and I was at Nonnatus school for my entire education.”

“Until university.”

“Until university, when I lived and worked at Nonnatus and took my classes, as well. So, yes, I suppose the tea cup pep talks became something of a tradition.” Shelagh told him.

“What were some of the others?” Patrick smiled. “And will Timothy be seeing some of these special teacups on his holiday?”

“No, I think Sister Julienne will keep those between us. And now you. We never speak of them; they were our secret.” Shelagh smiled again. “There was one, probably the one that got the most use, was ‘All shall be well’. Sister Julienne and I spent so much time reading Julian of Norwich together. Whenever I was sad, she would tell me that. And we would pray together. The Hail Mary and the Magnificat. The Gospels.”

“How old were you when John’s became your favorite?” He asked.

“I think it always was.” Shelagh confessed.

“What else?”

“The Psalms. The Old Testament. More than you would expect. The trials of the Israelites, the forgiveness, too, and…” Shelagh paused, not sure if she wanted to reveal where her train of thought was headed.

“And?”

“We would sneak records after dark, we had The Great Silence, and we would sneak records. The best was school holidays. Sometimes the others wouldn’t be around and we could play them with the volume full up. Sister Julienne introduced me to other religions, too. We read all the mystics together.”

“I know you think of her as your mother, but she really was always there for you, wasn’t she?”

“I don’t know what would have happened to me if not for Sister Julienne.” Shelagh told Patrick, her breaths quickening.

“Breathe, Shelagh, everything is fine. All shall be well!” He told her desperately, and the effect of Julian’s was instantaneous.

“Shelagh, would you like more tea? Something else to eat?” Patrick asked.

“Tea, yes. Not sure if I want more than the toast, though, dear.”

“Aside from the bacon.” Patrick added helpfully.

“Aside from the bacon.” Shelagh nodded. “What time is the train, Patrick?”

“What are you thinking of, Shelagh?”

“I thought perhaps I’d have a bath.” Shelagh said.

“You thought perhaps you’d have a bath?” Patrick teased her.

“Maybe you could join me. If you’re not too naughty.”

“Or maybe if I’m naughty enough?”

“Cheeky!” Shelagh scolded. “You can run it for me for that!” Shelagh told him.

“With pleasure, Shelagh, love. I think you’ll like what I’ve bought for your baths, dearest.” Patrick winked and sauntered to the bathroom.


	27. Epilogue, Part 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things do get a bit intimate; more implication and fade to black (I hope) than anything else. If you don’t like to read intimacies, I won’t be offended if you skip this chapter.

In the bathroom, Patrick lit candles for Shelagh, and drew her bath. As the tub filled, he dropped in rose petals and bubble bath, and then placed a bath bomb–someone had told him that all women fancied them, so he had thrown himself on the mercy of a salesperson to pick out a few Shelagh would like–next to the shampoo and conditioners Shelagh had brought to their house from her flat. Satisfied that Shelagh would be surprised by the extras accompanying her bath, Patrick shut the light off and went to tell Shelagh her bath was ready for them.

“For us? Rather presumptuous of you, Patrick.” Shelagh winked, walking two steps in front of him.

“Is it?” Patrick teased as he caught up to her and lifted her, bridal style and carried her into the bathroom. He shut the door behind them and wrapped Shelagh in his arms. Shelagh kissed him, and Patrick was certain that life had never seemed so perfect as it did now, with Shelagh, his wife. Finally. Patrick held a hand out to the bath, and held Shelagh’s hand with his other as she stepped into the bath. She sat down, admiring Patrick’s efforts, and leant forward so that Patrick could slide in behind her. Patrick wrapped his arms around Shelagh’s waist, guiding her to lay back against his chest. Shelagh picked up the bath bomb, smelled it, and smiled.

“This smells incredible, Patrick. Thank you.” She told him, and then dropped the bomb into their bath.

“Anything for you, my dearest.” Patrick told him. “I intend to spend the rest of my life giving you everything you deserve.”

“I didn’t realize the Bishop was that generous, Patrick.” Shelagh teased, looking up at Patrick’s face. Patrick began to laugh, and Shelagh winked at him.

“I’m expecting something of a wedding gift from him, if you must know.”

“Oh?”

“We had discussed a new position opening up, which I intended for us to discuss when we got back from Scotland.”

“Oh? When did you speak to the Bishop and why is it coming as a surprise to me? I make your schedule.”

“It was during one of our meetings about the wedding. You were at Timothy’s school. I think you’ll like it, though.”

“And you mean to let me worry about this new post for the next two weeks?!”

“I intend to keep you too busy to worry about anything for the next two weeks.” Patrick raised his eyebrows suggestively and Shelagh laughed. Patrick rubbed Shelagh’s shoulders, and Shelagh turned to face him, to place her ear over Patrick’s chest, her left hand rubbing circles over his chest and shoulder. Shelagh sighed.

“What’s wrong, dearest?” Patrick asked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so… peaceful.” Shelagh settled on the word.

They stayed, embracing, each caressing the others skin for some time. Neither Shelagh nor Patrick knew exactly how much time had passed, but then Shelagh tilted her head up to kiss Patrick. As she pulled away from their kiss, Patrick reached a hand up to tangle in her hair, pulling her back and tracing her lips with his tongue when they met again. Shelagh giggled, relaxing into his kisses. Patrick’s hands moved beneath her, cupping her bottom. “Put your knees here,” he whispered.

“Like this?” She asked.

“Yes,” he said, then he kissed her thoroughly as he lowered her down.

“Oh,” Shelagh said, her eyes momentarily wide in the candlelight before they closed. Her head bobbed down a bit; she couldn’t help it, and Patrick knew, so he stroked and caressed her and guided her.


	28. Epilogue, Part 22

They lay together in the bath until the water turned cold and they were forced to abandon the tub. Patrick was surprised they’d managed to keep as much water in the tub as they had, but Shelagh fretted about the wet floors. Patrick wrapped her into his arms and into his towel, and when she was dry, he retrieved her robe and helped her into it.

“How long do we have until the train, Patrick?” Shelagh asked as she began to apply lotion to her face and body.

“What do you have in mind, love?” Patrick asked as he secured his robe around himself. Shelagh offered him lotion but he held a hand up to decline.

“Maybe a meal with the Sisters and Timothy before we go? We could take them someplace.” Shelagh asked, suddenly uncertain of her idea.

“I’ll get dressed and go down to see what everyone is doing. Take your time getting ready, love.” Patrick stepped up behind her, meeting her eyes in the mirror, and giving her a smile. He squeezed her shoulders slightly, and pressed a kiss to the side of her head before leaving.

“Knowing Sister Evangelina, she’ll tell you to take everyone else and leave her to her to do list and tell you how much more work she can get done without them getting in her way, for good measure!” Shelagh called after him.

She searched herself in the mirror, wondering how she could change so dramatically on the inside and find no proof of it on the outside. Everything felt different, but nothing looked different, and Shelagh wondered how often that was the case. She remembered asking Sister Julienne why one person could have so many names, and the lesson she had been given about the tradition in Judaism of taking a new name at a change in life, because name bestowed identity. She was still Shelagh, but a new, different Shelagh than she’d ever been. She was now Shelagh Turner. She smiled, and finished applying her lotion. She sprayed a small amount of perfume, and began to apply her makeup. She had never worn much, but today she wanted to. She wanted to be seen, and she wanted to be seen the way that she felt; as the best version of herself.

She put her hair up, it was perhaps a simple hairstyle but it secretly had always been her favorite. When she was satisfied, she went back into the bedroom, picking out a new set of lingerie, a new pair of jeans which had seemed to be made for her and for her alone, flats, and a sweater that she loved because Patrick had always noticed when she wore it. She laid the clothing out on their bed–their bed! She got such a thrill at the thought!–and Patrick came in, smiling as he saw what she’d planned to put on.

“Sister Julienne thinks it would be lovely to all go out, though Sister Monica Joan may yet change her mind on that front. The first thing she said was that she’d fancy going to a pub and having a proper drink.” Patrick looked helpless, and Shelagh laughed.

“The last time Sister Monica Joan had a proper drink, Sister Julienne, Sister Evangelina, and I couldn’t get her back into her habit and back to Nonnatus. We had to call the Bishop to come to help us! She was wild, and that was the end of the occasional drinks at Nonnatus.”

“I never realized Nuns could drink at all.” Patrick confessed.

“Bishop always enjoyed a good whisky, and he never minded if the Nuns joined him in a drink on a happy occasion.”

“Sister Monica Joan was drinking on another occasion, I take it?”

“She had somehow convinced some poor fool to buy her a drink, and then another, and then another. We got a call at the school that she was at the pub and when we arrived, we were asked very kindly to keep her from ever coming back.” Shelagh confirmed. “We didn’t even know she’d left the grounds. She was always too sneaky for her own good.”

“Or yours, it sounds like. But why would anyone buy a drink for a nun?”

“She had shed her habit between Nonnatus and the pub. The bloke didn’t believe her when she told him she was a nun, and then when he felt uncomfortable about it, she told him she’d make sure God gave him what he prayed for if he kept them coming.” Shelagh told him.

“So no drinks for Sister Monica Joan, then.” Patrick concluded.

“No, I’d think not, Patrick. Maybe we’d better avoid the pub, though.”


	29. Epilogue, Part 23

In the end, they’d left the choice to Timothy, who had decided he didn’t care where they went as long as he got ice cream afterwards. They’d ended up with burritos and chips, Patrick and Shelagh stealing chips from each other as they had always at the office, even before they’d fallen in love.

“How is your food, Sister?” Patrick asked when he saw how scandalized Sister Monica Joan looked as she was presented with her burrito.

“I know not how I can be expected to eat this monstrosity!”

Sister Evangelina, who had opted for tacos, told her, “You just pick it up and eat it, Sister! It’s not rocket science!”

Sister Monica Joan watched Evangelina lift a taco to her mouth, and then decreed, “It is indecent to eat this manner of food!”

Patrick stealthily motioned to the waiter, who brought Monica Joan a burrito bowl instead of the burrito. Patrick had the untouched burrito packaged up for the train ride, and was pleased that he’d managed to solve the problem, until he saw a very large margarita make its way to Sister Monica Joan.

“Sister, I wonder if you might help me?” Sister Julienne and Shelagh both yelled as their eyes followed Patrick’s to the crisis in process. They managed to get her to the bathroom before she had seen the approaching drink, and trusted Evangelina and Patrick to dispense of the temptation.

“I do not know why you act as if there is a crisis? I see no flames, no smoke, no problems to speak of. It is a lovely day.” Monica Joan gestured broadly in the bathroom.

Under the table, Julienne had badly ripped her habit. “Sister, I am rather afraid I am in desperate need of your skills. I must have caught it on the door.” Julienne said as she produced a small sewing kit and showed the tear to her Sister in Christ and to Shelagh.

Monica Joan was displeased, but knew that her skills were needed, and she sat down and began to repair the torn habit. Shelagh hoped that her husband and son were faring well without anyone to run interference between them and Sister Evangelina.


	30. Epilogue, Part 24

“You seem nervous, Father Turner.” Evangelina decreed. “However, as your boy has learned, you don’t need to be afraid of me unless you hurt Shelagh.”

“I would never hurt Shelagh.” Patrick stuttered, then took a gulp of the contraband margarita.

“Then you’ve nothing to fear then, have you?” Evangelina said levelly, appropriating the margarita and taking a large sip.

“Can I try it, Dad?” Timothy piped in.

“No.” Patrick and Evangelina said at the same time, not breaking their eye contact.

After a few more moments, Evangelina turned to Timothy and smiled, “I do think you ought to have something special before we go on holiday, though.”

“Pop?” Timothy asked, ever hopeful.

Evangelina turned to the waiter, who was lingering by the table, “You heard the boy! Pop. Now.”

“You should have been in the army, Sister, and I mean that as a compliment.” Patrick said.

“I was.” Evangelina took another deep sip of the margarita and the waiter delivered the pop to Timothy.

“You must also eat your food, Tim.” Patrick told him.

“They’ll be in the bathroom a while yet.” Evangelina handed the margarita to Patrick.

“How do you know?”

“Sister Julienne tore the seam on her habit so we would have enough time to enjoy a drink together and dispose of the evidence before Monica Joan was finished with the repair.” Evangelina told him.

“I take it this has happened before?”

“Unfortunately for Sister Julienne’s poor habit, yes, it has.” Evangelina told him.

“Can I still have ice cream, Auntie?” Timothy asked, his face an angelic, hopeful one for the moment.

“I don’t see why not, so long as you promise to behave yourself.” Evangelina told him.

“Auntie?” Patrick asked.

“Yes. While you and mum were not traumatizing me for life, Sister Julienne explained how we’re all family now. She’s my new Grannie and Sister Evangelina is my Auntie. Sister Monica Joan is kind of like an Auntie and a Grannie all in one but Sister Evangelina says I mustn’t let her hear me say that.” Timothy told his father.

“That’s right. We don’t want to upset Sister Monica Joan any more than we have to.” Evangelina agreed.

“She does seem to get upset about almost everything,” Timothy agreed quickly.


	31. Epilogue, Part 25

“She’ll be just fine once we tell her she can have ice cream, too.” Evangelina winked at Timothy. “Not much that ice cream can’t fix, is there?”

“Not in my experience, no.” Patrick agreed affably. “How much longer do you think they’ll be?” Patrick’s head nodding towards the bathroom.

“Oh I reckon we’ve got time enough to finish this drink.” Evangelina told him.

“So,” Patrick started.

“I know you would never hurt Shelagh, not on purpose. I also know that sometimes, the people you love the most are also the ones who you hurt the most. This is unavoidable. But if she ever comes to Julienne crying–and I will find out–and you’ve done something daft or cruel, you will pray to see Satan himself on your doorstep rather than me.” Evangelina promised, taking a sip. Patrick gulped. Evangelina then handed the glass to Patrick, who downed the remainder of the margarita.

“I would never hurt Shelagh.” He promised. Evangelina raised an eyebrow at him. “And if I did I would spend the rest of my life making it right, making it up to her. All I want is to give her everything she deserves. Everything she’s never allowed herself to hope for or to want.”

“And children?” Evangelina asked.

“She’s terrified.” Patrick told her, unsure how much he should share with the nun, let alone in front of Timothy. Happily, Tim was quite taken with his pop and a pack of crayons and seemed as if he barely noticed the adults at the table. Still, Patrick didn’t want to take for granted that Timothy wasn’t still paying attention. “I’ve told her that it’s up to her. Whatever she wants, whenever she wants. I just want her to be happy.” Patrick summarized.

“What did she say to that?” The look on Evangelina’s face changed, and Patrick wasn’t yet sure what this look meant.

“She said that she knows it won’t be the same, but that she’s still afraid. And that it isn’t just up to her. It has to be what’s right for us, not just what’s right for her.”

Evangelina nodded knowingly, and Patrick waited for her to speak again.

“You’ve done well, Patrick.”

“I think she’s finally starting to accept all of it. That she deserves to be happy, that she doesn’t have to feel guilty for anything.” Patrick said.

“Still, best to let her take the lead. Her father did a number on her. She used to cry that she would join the convent because only God could help her with the ghosts. You see, she knows her dad’s buried, but how could he be at rest and how could she move on when she hears his voice in her head every day? Every time she makes a decision, each time she reads a book or laughs or buys something.”

“I’d never realized. I feel awful. All that time before we were, when she worked at the church and shied away from attention, I thought she was being modest or humble… that she was shy and maybe uneasy with too many people around. I should have helped her more.”

“You did help her. You are helping her. There’s nothing to be done about what’s done. All you can do is help her now and make sure her future is happier than her past was. Which you are. I can see the changes in her already. I could on her first trip back to Nonnatus after she started working at the church.”

“Surely not as far back as that?” Patrick whispered incredulously.

“As far back as that.” Evangelina confirmed.


	32. Epilogue, Part 26

The bathroom door opened, then, and Sister Monica Joan led the way back to the table. Shelagh and Sister Julienne followed, walking side by side and laughing. Timothy looked up, and when he saw that Shelagh had come out of the bathroom, he ran to her. Shelagh smiled and caught him as he embraced her. Patrick and Evangelina watched, both smiling at grandmother, mother and son.

“Mummy! Auntie Evangelina got me pop and she said I can still have ice cream!” Timothy told her.

“Oh wow! Just remember that it’s a treat for a special occasion. We’re all going on holiday, and auntie is on her holiday now. When we all get back from Scotland, it won’t be pop and ice cream every day.” Shelagh ruffled his hair.

“I knoooow so I’m going to enjooooy it.” Timothy told her. “Mummy?”

“Yes, dearest?”

“It’s okay to be afraid. Remember you told me that I can be afraid on the swings but I should try to be brave because I might have fun? And when I had to go for my shots! You said it was okay to be afraid…” Timothy rambled.

Shelagh knelt down to look into his eyes. “Are you afraid, Timothy? It’s not too late to come with us, dearest. I promise we won’t be angry if you’ve changed your mind.”

“No, mum. I don’t want you to be afraid.” Timothy told her.

Shelagh wrapped her arms around her son and held him tightly. Timothy hugged her back with a ferocity she hadn’t seen since just after she’d arrived to Nonnatus when Timothy would cling to Patrick at the end of lunch as if he’d never see him again.

“I’m not afraid, Timmy, I’m just going to miss you so much for a whole week! What am I going to do?”

“Mushy stuff with dad.” Timothy deadpanned.

“Cheeky!” Shelagh told him as she cupped the back of his head with her hand, moving his head slightly from her shoulder so she could kiss his cheek. “I love you, Timothy.”

“I love you, too, mummy.” Timothy told her.

“I think it for the best that we get Timothy his ice cream. We haven’t long until your train. Your bags are already packed in the boot, I trust?” Sister Julienne delicately asked.

“They’ve been in the boot for a month, Grannie! Dad said it was worth it bringing them to all the church functions and supermarkets because he wanted everyone to know was more than ready for the honeymoon.” Timothy chirped.

“I think a yes might have sufficed.” Julienne winked at Timothy, knowing how much he was enjoying getting to embarrass his parents.


	33. Epilogue, Part 27

Timothy ordered the largest ice cream he’d ever been allowed, and his eyes widened as he held it in his hands. Sister Monica Joan ordered a slightly smaller ice cream, and sat down next to Timothy. They clinked their spoons together in a toast before tucking into their ice creams. Surprising everyone, Shelagh ordered 4 whippy cones, and handed them to Sisters Julienne and Evangelina, and to Patrick, keeping one for herself.

“Might as well, since we’re here.” Shelagh smiled. Sister Evangelina grumbled a bit, but Patrick noticed that she squeezed Shelagh’s hand and gave her a look, and that Sister Julienne and Shelagh’s smiles were both a bit larger after that, so he smiled, too.

After they finished their ice cream, Shelagh began the process of cleaning Timothy’s face and sticky fingers. Patrick watched, completely wrapped up in the scene, and didn’t notice Evangelina at his side until she spoke to him.

“You wouldn’t know she’s not been doing this since he was a wee one.”

“I wish it had been her from the beginning.”

“Well, she’s always been his mum, hasn’t she? Sewing his uniforms, and hemming your pants, too, I suspect.”

“I loved Timothy’s mother, but I wish he’d been Shelagh’s; that I could have found her and married her and spared us all the pain we went through.”

“But you found each other in the end and who’s to say that if you had met earlier it would have worked out the way it has?” Evangelina said kindly. “Still, you should tell her all that. It will make her very happy to hear it from you.” She laid a hand on Patrick’s shoulder, met his eyes, and then returned to Sisters Julienne and Monica Joan.

“I think it’s about time we took you to the train, my dears.” Sister Julienne announced. The Sisters and the Turners got back into the car, and Patrick started the car, then headed towards the station.

“Where did the other teachers go?” Timothy asked from Julienne’s lap.

“They went to London.” She answered.

“Are they taking the train back with us?”

“Last I heard.” Evangelina said, her disdain for their London excursion evident. Timothy made a shock face to Sister Julienne, who chuckled and rested a hand on Evangelina’s forearm.

“I’ll not have any of this nonsense the younger teachers prattle on about from the pictures. You’re going to say goodbye to Timothy and to us and you’re going to get onto the train and no one is going to have any hysterics or dramatics. Is that clear?” Evangelina leveled a gaze at Patrick via the rear view mirror. Monica Joan made a face of displeasure out the window.

“We’ll try, won’t we, dear?” Shelagh asked Patrick.

“We certainly will. But I make no guarantees.” Patrick added.


	34. Epilogue, Part 28

Timothy had believed that he’d hidden his anxieties about being away from Shelagh quite well. He knew his father was a bit too wrapped up in the honeymoon to notice, but figured that his Mum and Julienne were distracted, too. He was quite wrong on that front. When they arrived at the train station, Timothy fidgeted in Julienne’s lap, and she softly raised a hand so that it looked as if she was just fixing his hair. “It’s only a week, Timothy. I promise.” She whispered. In the front seat, Shelagh wiped a tear from her eye, and twisted the engagement ring on her finger. Patrick laid a hand on hers, squeezing slightly. She looked at him, and they exchanged watery smiles.

Everyone exited the car, and Evangelina walked to Timothy, knelt down so she could meet his eyes, and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I’ll not tell you that you have to be brave. I understand you’ve not been away from her for a week since she started dating your Dad.” Timothy nodded. “You can be nervous or scared or worried, but she isn’t leaving you. So I’ll not tell you to be brave, but I will say this will all be much easier if you can show her that you’re going to be fine without them.” Timothy nodded, and Evangelina stood up. Timothy tucked himself into the side of Julienne’s habit the way Shelagh always had and it brought a smile to Julienne’s face. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. Her grandson. She thought she’d never have family after she entered the convent. How wrong she was! Shelagh wrapped Julienne into a hug.

“You have nothing to worry about, Shelagh.” Julienne promised. “I know you’re a bit sad about leaving Timothy; he is, too, but you’ll both be better for this space. I think I took care of you nicely, and I’m quite looking forward to taking care of my grandson.” She smiled. From her habit, Timothy’s muffled voice came, “I’ll be on my best behavior, Mum.”

Shelagh knelt down and hugged him. “I know you will be, Timothy. I’m going to miss you so very much, but we won’t be apart for so long.” Timothy looked at her, part of his face still obscured by Julienne’s now soggy habit.

“I don’t want you to go, Mum.” Timothy sobbed.


	35. Epilogue, Part 29

Shelagh grabbed Timothy out of Julienne’s habit, and they held each other tightly and cried. Patrick, who had been trying to have a conversation with Sister Monica Joan, was startled by Evangelina slapping his arm to get his attention. When he realized that his wife and his son were both crying, he knelt down and wrapped his arms around the both of them.

“Now, what’s going on?” Patrick asked gently.

“I know she’ll come back…” Timothy managed between sobs.

“But you’re still frightened?” Patrick asked. Timothy nodded. “And you’re worried and feeling guilty because Timothy’s upset. Oh my poor loves.” Patrick pressed kisses to his wife’s forehead, then to his son’s. “It isn’t too late to change our plans.” He suggested.

“NO!” Timothy yelled, and pulled away from his parents.

“No?” Shelagh asked, exchanging a confused glance with Patrick.

“No. You can’t change the plans.” Timothy said, then he looked to Sisters Julienne and Evangelina for help.

“This is all part of growing up. It isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. And it’s just as necessary for you two to get into that train and get into your seats and not worry about anything else until we see you at Nonnatus at the weekend.” Evangelina decreed.

“Though I would not have put it quite as my sister in Christ did, Sister Evangelina is quite right. Children grow up and need independence and it isn’t easy for the child or for the parent, but,” Julienne began.

“But if you never let them into the world on their own how will you know whether you’ve taught them what they needed to know.” Shelagh finished. “Okay, Timothy.” Timothy ran to her. “I love you very much and I’ll see you in a week. I’ll be looking forward to hearing what you’ve learned and done.”

“I won’t be looking forward to hearing your report, Mum.” Timothy deadpanned.

“If I hear you’ve been giving cheek to the Sisters whilst we’ve been on holiday you’ll be scrubbing fixtures for a month, Timothy.” Patrick interrupted.

“I love you so much, Timothy. Be a good boy for the Sisters.” Shelagh squeezed him.

“I love you, Mum. Have fun. Make sure Dad eats haggis while you’re in Scotland!”

“I like haggis!” Patrick insisted.

“While he wears a kilt!” Timothy howled with laughter, which Evangelina laughed at, too.

Patrick hugged Timothy, and told him, “I love you.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“And I mean it, Tim. One bad report from the Sisters…” Patrick threatened.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Julienne insisted.

Shelagh hugged Julienne one last time, and then she and Patrick got on the train. They waved out the window at their little family, and discussed what they’d do for their meal when they arrived.

Shelagh nodded off on Patrick’s shoulder, and Patrick couldn’t keep his eyes off of the sleeping form of his angel of a wife. He truly had been blessed.


	36. Epilogue, Part 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was skyping with @mg-bsl381 and @snoopctm, I joked that apparently the Fandom to Work origins of the Church AU should have just been the prequel, because obviously this is the main story (who knew!) and not an epilogue at now 30 (!!!!!!!!) installments. This next one is a bit shorter, but I hope you’ll still enjoy it!

“I always fall asleep on the train.” Shelagh confessed sheepishly, not moving her head from Patrick’s shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her tighter to him. She wrapped an arm around his torso and snuggled into his chest. After a yawn, she looked up to him, kissing him softly.

“I don’t mind. I like watching you sleep. It’s the only time you look like the angel you truly are.”

“Are you saying I don’t look like an angel the rest of the time?” Shelagh teased.

“You would if you were ever still long enough to be properly seen!” Patrick teased back.

Shelagh settled her head back onto Patrick’s chest, then poked him in the ribs. “How much longer do we have?”

Patrick looked at his watch. “I’d love to tell you, my darling wife, but my watch seems to have stopped.”

“Has it?”

“I’m afraid so. And I hate the thought of explaining that to Timothy. Would you mind terribly if we found a shoppe to do a repair?”

“Not at all.”

“Does it bother you?”

“I’ve already said it doesn’t, Patrick.” Shelagh said, frustrated that Patrick seemed not to have listened.

“I meant that I still wear this watch, love. For Timothy’s sake.”

“I was a bit surprised when you told me about it, but you’ve always worn this watch. It’s important to Timothy. So we’ll just have to pray it can be repaired.” Shelagh smoothed her sweater and began to run her hands over her jeans.

“It’s okay for you to be upset about it, Shelagh, you must just tell me when you are. Please.”

“I’m not upset about the watch, Patrick.” Shelagh said harshly. “I’m upset that it means so much to Timothy. And I know that’s ridiculous and petty. I hate that I feel this way, but I do.”


	37. Epilogue, Part 31

Patrick felt awful, he always felt awful when his watch became a topic of conversation. In truth, he’d only worn the watch because it was a gift, and one of the last gifts he’d received from Timothy’s mother. It wasn’t a watch he would have purchased for himself, but after he received it, he stored his other watch and wore it to show his appreciation for the gift. Once Patrick realized that his wife had no intention of coming back for him or for Timothy, he tried to go back to wearing his old watch, saving this one for special occasions, but Timothy had gone to pieces when he saw his father wasn’t wearing the gift from his mum, and so Patrick continued to wear it each day. He reckoned Timothy might soon be old enough to understand that Patrick might not want to wear the watch every day. He thought perhaps he could send Shelagh and Timothy to the store together to pick out a new watch… Patrick heard that the reason he received that watch all those years ago was because Timothy had fallen in love with it, and she didn’t know enough about men’s watches to know whether or not Patrick would like it, too.

He should have told Shelagh the story behind the watch earlier than he did; he knew that now. The explanation shouldn’t have come after Shelagh had gifted him with a lovely, engraved pocket watch after he’d mentioned he had wanted one as a young boy. He didn’t want to make any mistakes with Shelagh, but he felt that he was always making a mess of things with the watch.

He squeezed Shelagh’s hand. “You know you’re a wonderful mum. You always have been. We’d be lost without you.”

“I hate that he still misses her so much and there’s nothing I can do to make his pain go away.”

“He loves you.” Patrick told her earnestly. “He barely remembers her, you know. We talked about her. Before the wedding. He asked about the day she and I got married, and he pulled out a photo he’d stolen from one of the old albums. He didn’t remember anything about the day the photo was taken, he just liked the look of it. He told me that he used to look at it every night after he took it, and he used to wonder about her, but he isn’t sad or mad that she left anymore.”

“Then why…?” Shelagh trailed off.

“He told me that he forgives her because he got the best mum in the world after she left.”

Shelagh started to cry.

“He’s sad that she doesn’t wonder about him, and he doesn’t understand how a mum could just leave her child because he sees how you’ve always been towards him. He knows mums should be like you and like how Sister Julienne is with you. He just,”

“He wants her to ring for him or even to send a letter from her new life asking how he is and what he’s like. He wants her to miss him.” Shelagh said softly. “Then why is the watch so important to him?”

“Because the day she gave it to me was the last day we were a happy family. We’d taken Timothy to the park and he was exploring and I thought that maybe the next year we’d be there with two children, and she surprised me with the watch and Timothy had ended up picking it out and then the next day, she just left. I never knew it was coming. I thought I’d missed the signs, but… either she was such a good liar there were no signs or…” Patrick’s voice was thick with emotion.

“I’m sorry, Patrick.” Shelagh said, then she kissed him, rubbing his neck and burying her face in his chest.


	38. Epilogue, Part 32

When their train arrived, Patrick and Shelagh made their way to the hotel. It was later than Patrick had anticipated, though admittedly his knowledge of train schedules was limited. He started to think perhaps the nuns insisting on taking an overnight train was wise.

“Shelagh, did you want to get something to drink?” He called to her in the bathroom. They’d had the burrito, as well as sandwiches on the train, so he wasn’t hungry, however the first night of their honeymoon was certainly an occasion, and he’d have liked to make up for the lack of a nice meal.

“That sounds good, Patrick. I’d fancy some chips, too.”

“Food goes in and more food goes in, and you never seem full.” Patrick teased Shelagh, walking through into the bathroom to press kisses to her neck. “Where shall we go, my dear?”

“There’s a pub I’d heard the younger teachers discussing. I take it it’s rather more glamorous than the typical pub. I think it’s only a five minute walk?” Shelagh’s forehead creased as she tried to remember the name of the place.

“I could go for a pint.” Patrick considered.

Shelagh turned to face him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She kissed him gently, then grabbed his arm. “Let’s go, shall we, darling?”

“In a hurry, Mrs. Turner?”

“The sooner we go…..” Shelagh trailed off.

“What?” Patrick asked, not following Shelagh’s train of thought.

“The sooner we can come back.” Shelagh smiled naughtily.

“I do like the sound of that, Mrs. Turner.” Patrick teased, grabbing his jumper and a lightweight coat for Shelagh.

“I do like the sound of that, Patrick.”

“Of what?”

“Mrs. Turner.”

“Do you think the Bishop knew when he posted you?”

“Knew what?”

“That this would happen.”

“I think he may have been hoping it would.” Shelagh confessed.

“Let’s go get those chips.” Patrick winked.

“And then get back here.” Shelagh laughed.

The pub was nicer than the others in the area, and Shelagh understood why the younger teachers would frequent it instead of the other local options. Patrick pointed out a corner table, and Shelagh examined the menu carefully. Since they were there and she was already planning to get chips, she added on a pie and upgraded her chips to a double order. She ordered a red wine, and Patrick got his pint; choosing a pale ale to go with the chips he hoped to liberate from his wife’s double order.

When the drinks came, Patrick lifted his glass and raised an eyebrow suggestively. Shelagh giggled, contemplating her wine rather than meeting his eyes.

“To us.” He toasted.

“To us.” Shelagh clinked her glass against his, and they each took a deep sip. “Is it odd?”

“What?”

“How it all just feels so familiar. Like nothing has changed? When everything has.”

“I think that’s likely a good sign, love. But it does feel as though we’ve been doing this forever. I hardly remember life before.” Shelagh nodded at Patrick’s words. “Have you given anymore thought to…” Patrick stumbled, “That is, to say, shall I pop out to make a small purchase? Or make a stop on the way back to the hotel?” Patrick tried to ask delicately.

Shelagh laughed softly, tracing the rim of her wineglass absentmindedly. “I don’t know, Patrick. How would you feel about that? Certainly a purchase now wouldn’t be a guarantee…”

Patrick cringed, “I am sorry I didn’t think to take care of that beforehand.”

“It’s okay, Patrick. We’re only human.”


	39. Epilogue, Part 33

“Do you want for me to make a purchase, Shelagh?”

“I want to know what you think, Patrick. If it worked out that we were expecting a baby now, how would you feel about it?”

“Darling, you must know I’d be happy whenever we were expecting a baby?” Patrick asked. Shelagh nodded. “I must confess I’d like us to have a bit of time with just us and Timothy, but I wouldn’t be mad if we had a surprise sooner. Timothy would be happy.”

“Patrick, do you think birth control is acceptable?”

“Acceptable?” Patrick startled. “There are no church rules against it; we aren’t Catholic.”

“Do you think that whatever God wills to happen will happen no matter what? Do you think that birth control attempts for humans to play God?”

“Wow, I wasn’t prepared for that turn at all, Shelagh. I’m going to get another pint. More wine?” Patrick collected the glasses, leaving Shelagh sat at the table, confused.

When Patrick returned a few minutes later, he clasped Shelagh’s hands in his. “I’m sorry, my darling, I shouldn’t have walked away the way that I did. You caught me so off guard that I just needed a few minutes to think. I am so sorry, my love. Will you forgive me?”

“Of course, Patrick.” Shelagh smiled.

“My darling, I’ve told you whatever you want to do and whenever you want to do it is fine with me. Truly. I don’t have the daily discomforts and all the appointments… I’d be with you through it all, but at the end of the day, you’re the one who will be pregnant. You get a bigger vote than I do.”

“Would you be disappointed if we didn’t have a baby right away? If we started taking precautions now?”

“We have plenty of time to have a baby, Shelagh. I won’t be disappointed.” Patrick smiled.

“And if we started taking precautions, but they came too late?”

“Man plans and God laughs, my darling. Clearly. I thought I’d accounted for everything, and rather feel like this was a practical joke from God.” Patrick shook his head, laughing softly.

“I’m not sure what I want to do, Patrick. I’m terrified and part of me feels we should just see what happens or try to make it happen now because I feel like I might be braver now, but my father had a lot to say on the use of contraception.”

“He knew you weren’t Catholic, didn’t he?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you what he believed. I heard him and mum fighting one night. I take it he’d found something and screamed at her about it. I couldn’t make out all of what he was saying. It wasn’t long before I’d gone to Nonnatus, and it wasn’t long after that mum was having the new baby–within a year–, and then…” Shelagh sipped her wine, and Patrick stroked her hand.

“We can always stop taking precautions, and we don’t know what will happen, perhaps we should start taking some now. I know how brave you are and I know what a good mum you’ll be to our babies–if we have any–because of how you are with Timothy. But I don’t want you to go into any of this with fear.” Patrick met her eyes.

The food came, then, and Patrick stole chips from Shelagh, who pretended to scold him. When the pie was eaten, and the chips and drinks gone, Patrick looked at Shelagh, and said, “Now, my love, why don’t we get you back to the hotel? You can get a bath ready for yourself, and I’ll be in to join you as fast as I can.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to find a shop open now?” Shelagh asked, looking at the clock on the wall.

“I believe so.” Patrick winked, and paid for their meal. He offered his arm to Shelagh, who looped her arm through his, and they walked back to the hotel.


	40. Epilogue, Part 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s their honeymoon, and these two lovebirds are adamant about getting it on…….. but not in this chapter 😂

In the room, Shelagh unzipped her suitcase, found her slip and robe, and raised an eyebrow at a brown paper bag, which appeared to have magazines inside. Shelagh had no idea how it had gotten into her bag, or even if it was meant for her. She took the bag along with her slip and robe and went to the bathroom to draw her bath. She decided that she liked the shape of the hotel tub better than the tub at home, though, of course that tub had very special memories. A light blush coloured her cheeks as she remembered their tub at home. She put her hair up loosely, got into the tub, and began to read. The magazines appeared to be the titles she’d always avoided at the checkout lines, too sexy for her more old fashioned, religious beliefs about sex. Clearly, the nuns wouldn’t have gifted these to her, and she could scarcely imagine that the younger teachers would have had opportunity to slip these into her bag… Shelagh contemplated that as she flipped the cover open. A few adverts, none of which caught her eye, followed by long credits, an interview on how to live your best life… Why were these in her luggage? A note fluttered out when she reached the middle of the magazine. We flagged the pages with tips for how to blow his mind ;) Shelagh rolled her eyes. But how did the younger teachers get these into her bag? She’d find out next week. In the meantime, she had to admit that she was curious, and set about finding the flagged pages in each of the magazines so that Patrick wouldn’t find her researching such things. Shelagh had to admit that some of the tips were very educational, and some of the tips had surprised her–she hadn’t thought that getting things started herself could drive Patrick crazy in a good way. Shelagh honestly hadn’t given much thought to taking such matters into her own hands. She shook her head at that, laughing lightly. She knew Patrick would be back soon, if he wasn’t already, and so she slipped the magazines back into their bag and slid further down into the water. She contemplated sending a group text, and wished that she’d brought her phone in so she could have sent the message before she lost her nerve.

Shelagh drained the tub, and then wrapped herself in a towel. She dressed in her slip and robe, returned the towel to the hook, and slipped back into the bedroom. She placed the magazines back in her suitcase and turned to the bed to discover Patrick was already in bed, grinning.


	41. Epilogue, Part 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s their honeymoon, and these two are absolutely DETERMINED to spend as much of it getting it on as possible. They keep tricking me into ending up in bed together, and because there is a limit to how many different scenarios I’ll be able to write for them, I’ve opted for a fade to black in this chapter. It’s a short one but your patience may be rewarded with a double update today 😉

“I thought you were joining me?” Shelagh asked.

“I had a better idea.” Patrick smiled, patting the bed.

Shelagh quickly walked over and got into bed with him, his arm wrapping around her and pulling her close to him. She looked up at him and he met her lips, smiling.

“How was your bath, love?”

“I….”

“What’s wrong?”

“The younger teachers supplied me with magazines full of… tips. It was informative.” Shelagh told him.

Patrick rolled his eyes. “How did they manage to get them into your bag?”

“I have no idea.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about these educational tips.” Patrick teased Shelagh, kissing her and giving her a wink and a squeeze on her bum for encouragement. “Perhaps you should tell me about them.”

“Perhaps I should show you.” Shelagh winked. Patrick gasped.

Some time later, Shelagh lay against Patrick’s chest absentmindedly rubbing circles on his arms, which he’d crossed over her stomach. Shelagh looked up at Patrick, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Those must have been some magazines they left you, love.” Patrick told her sleepily.

“I must admit I hadn’t expected the efficacy of some of those tips.” Shelagh said.

“I must admit I should have expected that you’d want to try all the tips out tonight. Somehow I missed that.” Patrick laughed, tracing the underside of her breast with his thumb.

“I find hands on research to be very beneficial, don’t you, love?” Shelagh asked.

“I admire your scientific mind, my dear wife.” Patrick laughed, winking at her when she met his eyes.

“I think I’m hungry.” Shelagh informed Patrick.

“I’m not surprised. You’re always hungry, and, well… We did just exercise.” Patrick laughed.

“Do we have any food here, Patrick?”

“Room service?” Patrick offered. “I’ll even order it for you, my lovely wife. What would you like?” Patrick rolled over to pick up the phone.


	42. Epilogue, Part 36

"Can I see the menu?" Shelagh asked. "Do you want anything, dear?"  
"No, I don't think so." Patrick stood at the phone waiting for Shelagh to give him her order.   
"So you'll just eat half of whatever I order then?" Shelagh laughed.   
"Maybe not half..." Patrick laughed.   
"I think I want chicken..." Shelagh thought aloud. "Maybe the salad with grilled chicken on, fruit..." Shelagh chewed her bottom lip.   
"I'll take it from there!" Patrick dialed the number for room service with gusto. "Yes, I need room service. Room number... um..." Shelagh supplied the number with an eye roll, but Patrick carried on oblivious, "We need the salad with grilled chicken, do you have fresh strawberries? Good, some of those, a bottle of champagne, and also fish and chips with a double order of chips. Thank you."  
"They're going to think we're mad, Patrick!" Shelagh laughed. "Fish and a double order of chips with a salad!"   
"It's called balance. I'll eat some of your salad and it will undo my fish and chips, which you will eat half of, anyway." Patrick teased Shelagh, getting back into bed with her. 

"Don't chips taste so much better when we're naked in bed?" Patrick teased Shelagh, both of their robes put on solely for the purpose of room service, and quickly discarded once the door had been locked again.   
Shelagh laughed as she bit into a strawberry, then took a sip of the champagne Patrick had poured. Patrick was happily eating his fish and chips, and Shelagh returned to eating her salad and stealing chips from Patrick.   
"Patrick?" He made a grunting sound indicating that he was listening, but that his mouth was full. "What shall we do tomorrow?" Shelagh asked.   
He cleared his throat. "Well, I've quite a few ideas."  
"Do any of them involve leaving this hotel room?" Shelagh teased.   
"Well, I thought we could go out for dinner." Patrick defended.


End file.
